Concourse
by Lady Primrose Roxton
Summary: *Complete* Starts where HotS left off - how do they save the Plateau? Enquiring minds need to read ;)
1. She Who Watches

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 5/2002  
Part: 1 - She Who Watches  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Catagory: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn!  
Spoilers: The Knife, Tapestry, BiA, Trapped & HoTS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, others please let me know first.  
  
A/N: Yes, I do indeed feel the need to resolve this year's cliffhanger...It keeps me off the streets *g*. Doubtless, it will be made entirely AU in September, without a doubt. As always, feedback is to me as coffee is to Marguerite - life's blood! Hat's off to the Lost World Discussion Board and the great members there. Great whacking applause and kisses for the Cast & Crew of TLW!  
  
A/N2: A mathematics whiz I am not, but parts of my plot are based on accepted chaos theory application of nonlinear dynamics. As a reason for what happens on the Plateau, I suppose it's a good as any other, but it's not meant to be anything other than entertainment. The story of "She Who Watches" (Tsagaglalal) is a legend among the native peoples of the Columbia River in North America. I have modified it a bit to suit my purposes. All changes are not meant to offend and are a result of me attempting to tell a good story.  
  
***  
  
If I venture to displace ... the microscopical speck of dust... on the point of my finger,...   
I have done a deed which shakes the Moon in her path, which causes the Sun to be no longer the Sun,   
and which alters forever the destiny of multitudinous myriads of stars.  
  
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)  
  
  
Damn the torpedos! Full speed ahead!  
  
Admiral David Glasgow Farragut (1801-1870)  
  
  
***  
  
Tsagaglalal watched. Sometimes, She would think how foolish they were. Sometimes, She even thought She liked them a bit. Mostly, She just watched and waited. The time had come at last She decided.   
  
The Scholar had posed his final query and began his fall. The Druid's storm of unremembered power and responsibility had been unleashed. The Warrior awaited an impossible last test of bravery, honor, and fear of defeat. The seeking Catalyst had unwittingly placed the definitive actions into play. The Protector had sought ascendence but failed to comprehend how to achieve it. The spiral had begun to turn in upon itself. The waiting was almost over.  
  
She felt his presence again. The impertinent Scribe. His ability to center on Her was alarming, and one such as She should not feel alarmed.  
  
"You know how to stop it," Malone accused Her. "You have to help her."  
  
"I have to do nothing but watch," She replied.  
  
"You can't let this happen," he walked closer to where She sat on a simple mat. He knelt down beside Her, his manner agitated but with great purpose. "It will be the end," his voice hoarse with strain.  
  
"It is a beginning," Tsagaglalal responded.   
  
"They're all mixed up; they're not supposed to be all together like that," Ned rubbed his eyes. It hurt to look at the lines of the spirals as they flowed down to the Plateau.  
  
She deigned to look at the man, "You were dead such a short time, Scribe. Do not presume you understand anything."  
  
"I understand that they'll die - we'll *all* die, if Veronica doesn't figure out how to stop it," Malone stated. "I want them to live, and I think you do, too."  
  
"I have no opinion one way or another," She said evenly. "I am She Who Watches."  
  
"I know who you are," the reporter shot back, exasperated. "And I don't believe that you don't care. You wouldn't be watching so closely if you didn't."  
  
"It is not as if I have anything else to do, Scribe," She laughed lightly. "I am as I have been since the Early Time - a Watcher."  
  
"You're still angry," Malone hazarded his guess aloud. "You'd still be Chief if you had not just watched."  
  
"Anger is pointless," Tsagaglalal said flatly. "Coyote has spoken, then as now. The people will reap what they have sown in their ignorance."  
  
"Just as you did?" he said insightfully.  
  
"The path has not taught them anything. They will have to begin again," She turned and looked away.  
  
"I disagree. It's taught us all a lot," Ned insisted. "We've come so far, and we didn't even know why we were there to begin with."  
  
"You've learned very little," She shook her head. "Stumbling around in the dark of ignorance and disbelief - calling it scepticism and science."  
  
"You must help us," he was begging now. "You know we've tried so hard. Doesn't that count for anything?"  
  
"Good intentions?" Tsagaglalal smiled sadly. "I had them, too. They, as you can see," she gestured with a hand, "did not save me from my errors."  
  
"Then help to save us," Malone pressed. He was truly afraid. The spirals were almost completely meshed, each piece fitting to each other as if the same, yet pulled from all the reaches of time and space. It hurt his mind to contemplate it, and he sincerely wished that Professor Challenger was there. He would understand better than a newspaper reporter who was still a bit wet behind the ears. "Help us save ourselves," his voice cracked with its earnestness.  
  
She finally looked back at the Scribe and saw the tears that flowed unnoticed and unchecked down his cheeks. The boy was afraid and didn't understand, but was trying his best. His gifts had been given so recently; he barely understood their nature, let alone their power. He had stumbled about this plane for such a long time, much as he had stumbled about the Plateau he inhabited. He'd left the protection of his family group to find out his destiny and the reasons for the bestowal of his gifts. She'd watched him for a long time before speaking. She'd found him ignorant and impertinent, while at the same time, strangely compelling and gallant. He was a natural Watcher and Scribe, just as She was. She sighed. It was paradoxical, the need for others but the wish to be left alone. She knew that the Scribe felt this way, too. His love for his family pulled at by his need to understand and record. The Protector was especially important to him, and more than once, she sensed his desire to return to her testing his resolve to stay until he understood.  
  
She smiled a little and reached out an ageless has to brush at his cheek, "Be not afraid, Ned Malone. It is as it should be, no matter what happens." At his look of despair, she made a soothing sound and added, "It is true that I cannot give the Protector, you, or any of your friends the answers you seek. It is not the Way of Things." She raised her other hand to his face and cupped it gently, "However, I may give each of you the ability to discover the answer on your own. Be aware, should you choose this, no one will intervene should any or all of you fail. It is for you and your friends to come to their own understanding of their place and their power within it."  
  
"You're telling me the fate of the world is in our hands," Malone stated wryly.  
  
"Your world, your time, your space, the other worlds, time and space. They're all one of the same as well as different. All parts are identical as well as different," She replied enigmatically, sitting back once again.  
  
"Glad you cleared that one up for me," he quipped.  
  
"This is all that I can do,' Tsagaglalal said simply. "On behalf of yourself and the others, do you accept my help?"  
  
Malone knew there was no choice; they would have to succeed, because there was no room for error. "I accept."  
  
She gracefully rose and he hastened to stand, brushing away the last of his tears impatiently. She held both hands palm up, a soft light appeared and when it was gone, a butterfly floated in the air above them. Its wings flapped gently, and it fluttered around Tsagaglalal and made its way over to Ned. He held out his hand and the orange and black creature landed in the middle of his left palm. Its wings moved up and down gracefully as it stayed perched on the reporter's hand. Ned looked at the butterfly, then up at Her. She smiled at him and nodded once. He looked puzzled, but didn't say anything. She approved; the lad was learning after all.  
  
Pointing to the colorful insect, Tsagaglalal said, "Here is the key to all, Ned Malone. The power and the understanding rest here."  
  
"A butterfly," Malone said flatly.  
  
"Yes," She agreed.  
  
"And this," he gestured with his other hand to the butterfly, " is all that I need?"  
  
"Yes," She repeated.  
  
Ned swallowed hard, "You're sure I have the ability to understand this? This sounds like something more in Challenger's line."  
  
"Exactly," Tsagaglalal voice held approval. She made a motion with her hands and Ned felt the swirling sensation of the changing. When the mists cleared, he was in a white room. Challenger was strapped to a table and a strange looking large bald man held a scalpel to his head.  
  
"Ned!" exclaimed Challenger.  
  
To Be Continued 


	2. Chaos, Necessity, and Spinning Stars

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 5/2002  
Part: 2 - Chaos, Necessity, and Spinning Stars  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: The Knife, Tapestry, BiA, Trapped & HoTS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, others please let me know first.  
  
A/N: Apologies to the great mathematicians of our time - I've credited Challenger with inventing Chaos Theory. Why not? Much like the beloved Professor of Gilligan's Island, George can invent anything, in the jungle no less!  
  
A/N2: This chapter contains much ret-conning of the canon "Shifting planes of reality" theory as presented this season. Personally, I love the theory and had a great time coming up with a "scientific" explanation of it. Utter malarkey, but very pretty, like meringues ;)  
  
***  
In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.  
  
Carl Jung (1875-1961)  
  
Chaos is a friend of mine.  
  
Bob Dylan (b. 1941)  
  
***  
  
Fear was an old friend to George Challenger; they'd been intimately acquainted almost all of life. Fear of failure to achieve his goals. Fear that recognition would elude him. More recently, fear of large reptiles. He had always felt the dichotomy of his fear and his intellectual dispassion. At the moment, fear of a sharp object in the hand of a mindless automaton dominated any objectivity that he had retained after he had awoke in the distant future.  
  
Just then, a flash of light, painful yet beautiful in its intensity, filled the white room. When his vision cleared, Challenger was astonished to see Ned Malone.   
  
"Ned!" exclaimed Challenger  
  
"Professor Challenger!" yelled Ned, moving toward him. The silent man with the knife turned to face Malone and moved toward him.  
  
"Halt," called out the disembodied voice that commanded the jailer, and the man stopped instantly.  
  
"Merciful Heavens," muttered Challenger, still futilely attempting to break the straps that bound him. His eyes shifted rapidly between Malone and his jailer, who still held the scalpel raised, and the panel where the voice emanated from.  
  
"What's going on?" Ned asked excitedly, never shifting his gaze from the man who held the knife.  
  
"I was rather hoping you'd be able to enlighten me," Challenger responded.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me, right?" Ned laughed wryly.  
  
"Alas, my young friend," the scientist confided. "I've not the slightest notion how I got here," he paused thoughtfully. "Although, I may have a theory...I haven't had much time to work on it," he inclined his head toward his jailer.  
  
"You're way ahead of me, as usual, Professor," Ned moved carefully passed the motionless jailer and tested Challenger's bonds. No reaction from the man encouraged Malone to release the straps and help Challenger to sit up.  
  
"How did you get here?" Challenger rubbed his neck where it was stiff. "Where have you been?"  
  
"Long story, and I really don't understand most of it," Malone replied enigmatically. "Who's he?" he gestured to the still and silent figure clenching the knife.  
  
"A poor lost soul," Challenger replied. "This is a strange place, Malone."  
  
"Where exactly are we?" the young man asked.  
  
"I can't tell you where, but I can tell you when," Challenger informed him. "At least if the voice that I heard can be believed," he gestured to the panel. "We are now in the year 4666, some two thousand forty-two years into the future."  
  
Malone's face showed considerable astonishment at this, but he managed to get out, "Why was he trying to kill you?"  
  
"The voice told him to," the scientist responded, shaking his head. "Something about them preventing me from becoming who I was to be." He looked at Ned, "Apparently, I will make a significant contribution to the world's knowledge and they wish to prevent that to ensure their survival."  
  
"But, if this is the future, how can they prevent that? I'm kind of confused," Ned said puzzled. "Who are they?"   
  
"Sentient machines," replied Challenger with a sense of horrified wonder. "As to the prevention of something that has already happened, it's an interesting theory..."  
  
"Silence!" the voice finally spoke again.  
  
"Why should we be silent?" Challenger immediately shot back. "Do you fear us?"  
  
"We do not feel any emotion," replied the inflectionless voice. "We exist and seek to learn and survive. We will survive. The models and equations have been analyzed. George Edward Challenger, you cannot be allowed to publish your theories or the events that lead to our creation will not occur and we will cease to exist. You must die and we will analyze your thought processes to understand how to prevent this from occurring."  
  
"It's already occurred," Challenger turned to speak directly to the panel. "You know that by Malone's coming here, the variables have changed again and all of your calculations are incorrect. You cannot be sure that killing me now would prevent another me from releasing the information I have discovered."  
  
"You may be correct," the voice replied after a short pause. "New calculations must be made. You will not be killed until we can be sure we have the right Challenger to stop the systematic change." Abruptly, the voice directed the jailer to leave and Malone and Challenger were alone.  
  
"Are you all right, Professor?" Ned said concerned as the scientist got up off of the table and began to walk slowly around the room.  
  
Challenger waved him off, "I'm fine, Malone. But, who knows how long they'll leave use alone. They're afraid of something, otherwise that reason would have never stopped them. I must think." He paced about; Ned knew that look and didn't say anything.  
  
Finally, Challenger stopped and looked back at Malone and said, "Chaos."  
  
"As in anarchy?" Ned queried.  
  
"No, as in a fortuitous concourse of atoms," Challenger replied. At Ned's blank look, the scientist smiled and said, "It's a theory I've been working on that attempts to explain why a small change in one variable can induce a large systematic change. My good friend, Albert Einstein, has postulated that the speed of light is a constant -- it's the same for all observers, regardless of how they are moving relative to the light source. Also, all observers moving at constant speed should observe the same laws of physics. A body of reference remains permanently at rest. With reference to it, however, there exist gravitational fields which affect..."  
  
"In English, please, Professor," the reporter requested.  
  
"In short, my boy," Challenger smiled. "I believe that the smallest alteration in the smallest of things can change entire systems of things, even through time and space."  
  
"I'm still lost," Ned shook his head and walked over to a white wall. He noticed a small wire cage on the floor and picked it up. The butterfly Tsagagalal had given him rested inside on a small branch, it wings fluttering slightly. He gazed at the butterfly, a pensive expression on his face, and then turned to Challenger.  
  
"The smallest alteration you said," Ned confirmed.  
  
"Yes," the scientist replied, intrigued by the look on the reporter's face. Malone may claim to be a bit thick, but Challenger knew he had a good mind and was willing to use it.  
  
"She told me that this butterfly was the key to it all, the power and understanding," he held up the cage.  
  
"Oh, quite intriguing. Who told you?" Challenger came up to look at the butterfly.  
  
Malone replied, "I don't know how to explain it, but ever since I returned from, well, wherever I was, I've been able to sense things."  
  
"Like that knife belonging to Jack the Ripper," the scientist offered.  
  
"Yes, but it's more than that. It's like a part of my mind had opened up and I can see other places that aren't when and where I am. Does that make any sense?" Ned looked at Challenger.  
  
"Oh, indeed it does," Challenger said excitedly. "You're talking of other planes of existence or reality. I believe that the Plateau is a confluence of different planes of reality. You're telling me that you can see them?"  
  
"I can only see a few," Malone explained. "I feel like there's more, a lot more, but their fuzzy, like when you can't tune a radio quite on the station you want and you get static. There's one place though that I can go to fairly easily and that's where I met Tsagagalal."  
  
"That's an unusual name," Challenger commented.  
  
"She's an unusual person," Malone nodded. "She knows a lot and watches everything. It's like she can see all the things that I can just sense exist."  
  
"She told you that this butterfly was the key," the scientist reached out for the cage and lifted it closer to examine the contents.  
  
"Yes," Ned shook his head. "I told her that it was a little out of my line and that you would be better able to understand what she said, so she brought me here. I don't know how."  
  
"And, you don't know if you can get back," Challenger didn't sound too worried. He was busy examining the butterfly.  
  
"That's it in a nutshell," Ned replied.  
  
"Utterly fascinating," murmured the scientist. "I've never seen such a specimen of Lepidoptera. It resembles a Danaus plexippus, but the confluence of these markings is wrong. They're almost spiral..." his voice trailed off as he carefully looked over the insect.  
  
"Spiral?" Malone looked at Challenger.  
  
"Oh, yes," nodded Challenger. "Quite unusual in such a specimen, I assure you."  
  
"Spirals were converging on the Plateau when I was with Tsagagalal," Ned explained. Challenger looked up immediately and focused on what the reporter was saying. "They came from all times and space but they were all the same, even as they got closer, but when they came together, they fit like they were one."  
  
"Strange attractors," the scientist was really excited now. "They fit together perfectly, yes? And, they were all the same yet functioned differently."  
  
"Yes," Malone agreed. "The light hurt my eyes, but it was like I couldn't turn away because they were all around, even through me. Somehow, I knew that it wasn't good. I don't know how I knew, but I could feel it." He looked over at the older man, "Where the spirals are meeting was going dark, like light was ceasing to exist. It was going in, but not coming out."  
  
"The light was failing to come out," Challenger confirmed. He shook his head. "Compression and time dilation. Finn talked a little about black holes but these spirals.... Could they be stars?"  
  
"I don't know, Professor," Ned replied. "I just know I have a bad feeling about this. I think if the spirals finish converging, we're all going to die."  
  
"Most assuredly," the scientist agreed. "The complete compression and destruction of the continuum of time and space as we know it. Reality ceasing to exist. Most impressive."  
  
"Mostly scary if you ask me," Malone offered his opinion. "What started it? More importantly, how do we stop it?"  
  
"I'm not sure exactly what started it," Challenger said. "It may have been my tele-transporting machine that took us to the future and brought Finn, a delightful young lady, back with us. I think that there were some ripple effects from that, but I'm beginning to think that the ripples were there already, as we had already visited the future and returned." He looked at Malone, "It's all circular you know. Space and time have curvature."  
  
"You mean everything has already happened and we're just in a loop that repeats over and over again?" Malone was confused.  
  
"Perhaps," Challenger nodded. "But, there's also the factor of gravity and the strange attractors," he added, oblivious to how lost Malone was. "More to the point, we may have 'supposed' to have gone to our future in order to understand what is happening now."  
  
"So, even if you go back and try to put things back the way they were, it won't ever be the same," Ned was groping his way through this thought.  
  
"Exactly!" Challenger approved. "Altering the past changes the future, but altering the future also affects the past."  
  
"And, somehow, we've managed to effect that small alteration that has caused a big change?" Ned floated his theory.  
  
"I believe so," the scientist agreed. "The confluence of shifting planes that is the Plateau has been altered. I believe I know how. Since you've been gone, Veronica has found out many things about her parents and her role on the Plateau. She has been designated the Protector of the Plateau, which I believe is a guardian of sorts for the gateway of the confluence of the shifting planes of reality. She has a pendent made of Iridium shaped in a triangle with a spiral in it. She called it a 'Trion'."  
  
"Another spiral," Ned noted.  
  
"Yes," Challenger concurred. "So many spirals. I'm beginning to believe what Marguerite says about there being no such thing as coincidences." He put the cage down on the exam table. "I think that Veronica has tried to stop the convergence of the planes, but has been unsuccessful, thus causing the shift in the planes of reality housing us."  
  
"That still doesn't answer the question of what we do to stop this," Ned stated. "And, we're running out of time...so to speak."  
  
"The time dilation at the center of the disturbance will protect us for a bit," Challenger said. "But, you are correct that we need to come up with a solution soon." He turned and looked at the butterfly again. "The solution is here, She said," he confirmed.  
  
"Yes," Malone replied. "I just don't get it. How can a 'butterfly' be the center of power and understanding?" He watched the wings float up and down, and then got a funny look on his face.  
  
Challenger was watching him and was intrigued by the look on the young man's face. "You've got something," he said.  
  
"What if the butterfly's wing moving is the small alteration that can cause the universe to collapse on itself?" Malone asked in a hoarse voice.  
  
"The smallest of actions having the greatest of impacts," Challenger slowly nodded. "Who knows which act caused the change? It's enough to know that the change has been effected and must be remedied. I do believe that your being able to travel to different planes is the key to this."  
  
"Me?" Malone was astonished. "I'm not the one who understands this stuff, Professor, you are."  
  
"Regardless, you are the one who can travel. I am here is this plane of reality and time because this is the result of actions or inactions on my part sometime in the past or future. I believe it was my tele-transporation device. All six of us were brought together on the Plateau; we are strange attractors to one another. I believe once our alterations are recognized, we can go about remedying the situation. Once balance is restored, then you and I and the others should be replaced back in our regular lives. Well," he moved his head from side to side. "At least these versions of ourselves. I can't speak for the other planes of reality."  
  
"What do I have to do?" Ned was uneasy.  
  
"You have to find the others, discover what their alterations were," Challenger replied.  
  
"I still don't see how understanding the alterations will fix them," Malone was confused still. "We can't alter the alterations with changing the confluence again, right?"  
  
"Precisely," the scientist exclaimed. "We must accept the changes and not fight them. I do believe that each of us is resisting the changes we have wrought and that is what's disturbing the balance." He looked down, "I do know that I was upset and angry when my tele-transportation device failed to be a distance transporter and turned into a time machine. I kept trying to make it what it was not, and for my troubles I shifted the time continuum. The results were delightful, however, as Finn is a very nice young lady and a welcome addition to our party."  
  
"She sounds swell," said Malone. "I'm getting a headache trying to keep all this straight."  
  
"You can do it, Ned," Challenger said firmly. "You would not be able to travel the planes of reality and existence if you weren't the person for the job."  
  
"Yeah, that's the real scary part," Malone replied. "Everyone's depending on me - the guy who's never been able to come through before."  
  
"That's your fear," Challenger acknowledged. "Mine is that I will fail now, have failed, and will undoubtedly do it again. We all must face our fears and embrace the change or we will be destroyed by it." He placed both hands on Ned's shoulders. "Go now to the others and explain to them. We all must be together on this. Good luck," he added smiling.  
  
Ned nodded and backed up, "Embrace the change, face our fears, explain *science* stuff." He turned to Challenger, "It would be a lot easier if I could just fix it by having Roxton shoot something."   
  
Challenger's bark of laughter followed him part way through the shift into the next reality.  
  
To Be Continued 


	3. The Right Honorable Gentleman

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 5/2002  
Part: 3 - The Right Honorable Gentleman   
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: The Knife, BiA, TEG, & HoTS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, others please let me know first.  
  
A/N: Thanks to those who have sent feedback and encouragement. Jewels and email make me happy ;)  
  
A/N2: At long last, LJR makes his appearance. As a manic Roxton fan & M/R shipper, you'd've thunk I'd start out with him, but old Neddie-boy appears to have taken up the position of my muse. I find that I'm missing Malone a lot more than I thought I would. I guess I just think the lovely balance of characters is off just a trifle without our reporter. Not a Finn-bash, 'cause I kinda like her, just a plea to TPTB to make sure David comes back for S4. This section is the longest so far, as the previous two were mostly to set up the plot, and because, well, I can go on forever about LJR *g*.  
  
A/N3: I have blatantly appropriated the very real Avebury Manor for use as the Roxton family seat in Wiltshire as well as the Avebury Circle and surrounding monuments, altering them to suit my fancy and storyline. Any ignoring of impossibilities as to geography, structure, etc., is purely the author's arrogance. Also, I've saddled Balliol College with LJR as an alumnus. I suppose if they're good enough to put up with Lord Peter Whimsey, they'll take LJR in stride...  
  
***  
  
We have met the enemy, and they are ours.   
  
Admiral Oliver H. Perry (1785-1820)  
  
We have met the enemy, and he is us.   
  
Walt Kelly (1913-1973)  
  
***  
  
Lord John Roxton had stared death in the face many times, once even literally. Looking at the Conquistadors that held him captive, he reflected that this might be an ironically fitting end to him. The circle would be complete. His ancestor had stolen from them, now they would steal his life from him. The fact that the Spanish soldiers had stolen the treasure themselves was almost immaterial in his mind.   
  
No matter how hard he tried to reason with his innate sense of honor, it had always been uncomfortable at the idea of Captain John Roxton stealing his way, royally sanctioned or not, into property and the English nobility. Living his life with honor and integrity never seemed to quite make up for such an ignoble family beginning.   
  
Marguerite had been amused by his piratical ancestor, which had made him feel a bit better, but he was still somewhat embarrassed by him. Ah, Marguerite! Where are you? He was so worried about her. If things were proceeding as they usually did on the Plateau, she was in as much a world of trouble as he was.   
  
Captain Perrez stood nearby, pleased at the prospect of executing the man he assumed was the British privateer responsible for the loss of countless treasures rightfully belonging to Spain. A proud man and uncompromising officer, he followed his orders to the letter always. His directive: Locate and eliminate the pirate Captain John Roxton using any and all means possible. In a few moments, he would have met this objective. His commander would approve, possibly even recommend him for promotion.  
  
The two strong men stared at each other, neither giving ground. For all that he was a captive, Perrez recognized that Roxton would never surrender. A grudging sense of respect began to form in the Spanish man's mind; without a doubt, Roxton would die with honor, no small thing in his eyes.  
  
The flash of brilliant light surprised everyone, but Roxton had been tensed to make a final move, and he reacted by rolling to one side and jumping up past the phalanx of soldiers to behind the large trunk of a tree. Just as he was getting ready to head for the hills, he heard murmuring voices, then silence. He peered around it to see what was going on, and was supremely surprised to see Ned Malone standing in front of a group of kneeling Spaniards. Malone looked extremely uncomfortable, but not in any danger. Roxton couldn't help himself and gave a short laugh and shook his head. Then, he came around the tree and carefully walked passed the immobile and prostrate soldiers to where Ned stood with a look of mild horror on his face.  
  
"Neddie-boy, am I glad to see you," Roxton grabbed him in bear hug and swung him around. "What the bloody hell is going on, Malone?" he whispered to Ned as he held him. The soldiers just gaped at the two.  
  
"A little misunderstanding," Malone replied quietly. "But, I think I can handle it."  
  
"Be my guest," Roxton replied. "Just make sure we're both in one piece when you're finished. They were just now about to send me to meet my Maker," Roxton eased back from Malone and kept a watchful eye on the obeisant soldiers.  
  
"You can, uh, get up now," Ned said somewhat hesitantly, and made an upward motion with his right hand.  
  
"We would not show such disrespect to a messenger of God," Captain Perrez replied in a reverent voice.  
  
"Messenger of God?" Roxton asked sotto voice.  
  
"I think they think I'm an angel or something," Malone quietly explained with a grimace.  
  
"If that's what's keeping them from killing us, then you've just been promoted, old boy," Roxton stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Uh, the Messenger is pleased that you are so....uh, pious. He'd like to thank you for your service, and then we've got to be going."  
  
"You dare to speak for him," Perrez getting over his awe just a little looking at Roxton in askance.  
  
"He's a friend of mine," Malone was inspired to say.  
  
"Captain Roxton is your friend?" Perrez was incredulous.  
  
"Well, he's more like my helper," Ned explained. Seeing the blank looks on the faces of the men, he added, "Uh, servant. He's my servant."  
  
"This man is a thief and a rogue," Perrez frowned.  
  
"That's why he's having to help me," Ned was inspired. "He's doing penance for his misdeeds."   
  
"I see," Perrez nodded in approval, but still was a bit confused.  
  
Roxton gave Malone a hard look for these last exchanges, but refrained from saying anything. Ned shrugged his shoulders; he was improvising the best that he could. Usually, he had more time to think up his stories. Marguerite was the one who could best improvise on her feet. He fervently wished she was there, and knew Roxton probably felt the same way.  
  
"We really must be going now," Ned said in as angelic a voice as he could muster. "I must give Roxton his next...uh...penance to perform."  
  
"As you say," Perrez acquiesced. "But, is there no service we may do for you? We have all prayed for a sign that we are following God's will in our conquest of this New World. You are the first such sign. It is a miracle!"  
  
"Ah, no. But, thanks anyway," Malone replied, frantically trying to think of a way to placate the soldiers while he concentrated on getting Roxton and him the hell out of there. "You just keep on doing what you're doing...umm....You'll be receiving a sign soon. You'll know it when you see it. We have to be going now."  
  
Roxton walked over and picked up his gun from where it had been placed on a log and joined Malone again. "Shall we go, Your Radiance?" he muttered in a low tone.  
  
"Yes," Malone replied succinctly and firmly.  
  
"Well," Roxton looked at Ned. "Which way?"  
  
Ned smiled enigmatically at Roxton and took hold of his hand, "Hang on, Roxton." He added under his breath, "I sure hope this works." He'd never tried to take anyone with him to another plane; it could be that they wouldn't be going anywhere. Roxton was staring at him, puzzled, but Ned was gratified to see the trust in the other man's eyes.  
  
The flash of light appeared again, and the sounds of the awed soldiers faded as the two men slipped into another plane. Ned was concentrating on Roxton, trying to make sure to hold onto him. Who knew where the hunter could end up if he let go of him? When the light cleared, they were standing on an open plain, with rolling hills and trees as far as the eye could see. Malone heard Roxton exclaim and turned to him, letting their joined hands drop.  
  
"I can't believe it," Roxton said hoarsely.  
  
"What?" asked Malone.  
  
"I'm home," Roxton replied looking at Ned with wonder. "This is my home...England." His voice cracked with emotion as he looked around.  
  
Roxton felt the fullness of his heart welling up at the sight of the green hills of Wiltshire, so different from the jungle greens of the Plateau. It had been so long since he had been home.  
  
"How did you do it?" Roxton asked in wonder.  
  
"I really don't know," Ned replied. "I'm pretty sure it has to do with my being in the spirit realm for a while, but I don't really understand it. I'm glad we're here together; I wasn't sure if I could take you with me when I left."  
  
"Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better, Neddie-boy," Roxton said wryly. "Thanks for letting me tag along."  
  
"You know what I meant," Ned shot back to Roxton, suddenly very glad to be with the older man. He had missed him fiercely on his journey of self-discovery. "I...it's good to see you Roxton," he finally got out pass the lump in his throat, moving awkwardly toward him.  
  
Roxton looked at Ned for a moment, then crossed over and took him into another embrace, this one not quite so enthusiastic as the last, but much warmer and loving. Pulling back a little, he put his hands on Ned's shoulders and looked at him. "It's very good to see you, too, Ned," he replied. "You've been missed - by us all. Veronica mostly." He smiled at Malone then shook him by his shoulders once and released him.  
  
Malone grinned sheepishly, "Really?"  
  
"Wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," Roxton said and he gazed out at the horizon. He gestured toward a ridge and said, "We need to go this way."  
  
"Why that way?" Malone asked as they started off in the direction Roxton had pointed.  
  
"Because that's the way to West Kennet Long Barrow," Roxton explained.  
  
"And we need to go there because?" Malone queried.  
  
"Because, it's the way home," Roxton replied with quiet satisfaction.  
  
"You mean your home," Malone confirmed, picking his way carefully down a slope of damp grass. "And, what's a barrow?"  
  
"Yes, my home" Roxton replied. "A barrow's a burial mound. There's a lot of them around here." Burial mounds that a young girl once played on.  
  
"You know, I wasn't really aiming for England, just out of where we were. I think you must have directed us here," Ned declared.  
  
Roxton looked pensive, "Why would I do that?"  
  
"Because, I think this is the place that's the center of your change that you've resisted," Malone stated.  
  
Roxton stopped and looked at Malone. "What change?" he demanded of the younger man. "And why should it matter if I resist it?"  
  
"It's something that Challenger and I sort of worked out when I was with him in the future," Malone replied.  
  
"Sort of worked out?" Roxton's eyebrows were raised.   
  
"We really didn't have a whole lot of time to hammer out all the details," Ned explained.  
  
"You were in the future, with Challenger," Roxton stated. "Did he get that bloody tele-transporter working again?"  
  
"No, I got there the same way we got here," Malone replied.  
  
"Which you can't really explain," Roxton said impatiently. "Most likely something to do with those shifting planes of reality George is always going on about," his voice held a bit of apology at his shortness with the younger man. It wasn't his fault they were there. More than likely, he was right, and it was Roxton who had directed them there. Malone hadn't ever been to this part of England that he knew of.  
  
"I know it's kind of hard to accept, but I've been able to move around those shifting planes of reality, just by...directing my thoughts there. Well, before, I just was there in my mind, but now, I've been able to actually, physically go to the different planes," Malone sounded excited.  
  
"I'm very happy for you," Roxton replied sincerely. "But, right now, we have to figure out why we're here. What's all this about resisting change?"  
  
"Change and overcoming fears," Ned explained. "Challenger said that we all must face our fears and embrace the change or we will be destroyed by them, that the confluence of changes that were destroying space and time were caused by us."  
  
"You've lost me, Ned," Roxton said. "You're saying that the changes that have happened to me - here - were or are part of the reason for the destruction of space and time? How is this possible?"  
  
"I don't really know. I barely understood what Challenger was telling me, but he seemed convinced of it. It has something to do with a theory of his about chaos and some guy named Einstein's theories about space being curved," Ned stated. "Also, it seems that the smallest of changes can cause the largest of changes, and a butterfly flapping its wings is causing the destruction of the universe."  
  
Roxton thought about this for a moment. It was pretty deep for man of his temperament. He'd attended Oxford, but his studies at Balliol had involved the history of the Realm and taking a Blue in cricket, not theoretical mathematics or whatever it was that Malone was talking about.   
  
"A butterfly," he finally stated, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Uh, huh," Malone confirmed, his mouth twitching.  
  
"Flapping its wings," Roxton put his arms out a bit and moved his hands in a flapping motion, his mouth pursed to keep himself from laughing.  
  
"Yeah," nodded Malone, finally giving into the grin hovering about his mouth and he laughed. Roxton joined in, and it felt good.   
  
At length, Roxton said, "All right, I suppose if George says it's true, it must be. So, what do I need to do to help get these changes back on track or confluence or whatever?"  
  
"That's just it," Ned replied with dissatisfaction. "I can't tell you what you need to do. Challenger thought that each of us is going to have to discover what it is that we've changed and why we don't want it to change and how we are fighting it. He thinks that if we embrace the change and confront our fears, we'll restore the balance to the confluence."  
  
"Because the Plateau is the center of the confluence of the shifting planes," Roxton stated insightfully. "But, why us? You said it was all of us who had caused the balance to be lost. Veronica is the Protector of the Plateau. How could she upset the balance? How do the six of us come into this?" he asked the reporter. "There are a lot more people than us on the Plateau."  
  
"Challenger had theory about that, too," Malone explained. "He called us Strange Attractors. Basically, we're different people with the same function on the Plateau, and we were drawn to each other and to the Plateau because of them."  
  
"But, we don't know what our function is or why we were drawn there," Roxton finished the idea for him.  
  
"Exactly," Malone replied, impressed and relieved that Roxton had understood him so readily.  
  
"And to think I thought it was all about the bloody dinosaurs," Roxton shook his head. "Well, we'd best be off," he said looking at the sky, "it'll be getting dark shortly and we've a bit of ground to cover before we get to the Manor."  
  
The two men resumed walking in the direction they had begun, and Roxton said, "How long do we have to fix these problems?" At Malone's pained look, he said, "Let me guess, you don't know, but Challenger has a theory."  
  
"Uh, yeah," Ned said sheepishly. "He said that there's something called time dilation the closer you get to a fixed body with gravitational forces and time slows down, so we have a while before it's too late, but there's no telling how long that is."  
  
"The fixed body being the Plateau?" Roxton asked.  
  
"I guess so," Malone replied. "Why?"  
  
"Because, we're on the other side of the planet," Roxton explained.  
  
"I never thought of that," Ned said worriedly.   
  
"Nothing to be done for it but to hurry as much as we can," Roxton decided, but he picked up their pace. "We'll just have to work as fast as we can."  
  
"Any idea why you're here back home?" Ned asked.  
  
"I'm not sure," Roxton replied thoughtfully. "It depends on..."  
  
"On what?" Malone prompted.  
  
"On when this is," Roxton finished.  
  
"Oh," said Ned, comprehending. They continued on in silence, at length climbing up a hill that gave view to a larger hill and a village.   
  
"There," pointed Roxton in the waning light. "See Silbury hill? Over past there is Avebury village. The Manor's the large white stone building next to circle of stones."  
  
"I see it," exclaimed Malone. "You grew up there?"  
  
"Yes," Roxton replied, lost in memory.  
  
Malone's appreciation of just exactly who and what Lord John Roxton was grew. When you fought side by side as long as they had for survival in a place as wonderfully strange but dangerous as the Plateau, you tended to forget who people were in the outside world. He started to remember that Roxton was a wealthy, titled nobleman with a string of illustrious ancestors and a house that, while not exactly a castle, would not be out of place grouped with the homes of some of the wealthiest of New York society.   
  
They crossed a bridge over a small river and walked up a narrow road as darkness completely fell. It was so quiet, and there were no cars on the road. A few lights were shining in the village, but they saw no people. Roxton lifted his head to smell the breeze. Rain was coming. Ah, spring in England. He'd been in the jungle so long; he'd almost forgotten that smell. Then, he shivered. He'd also forgotten how cold it could be. He looked at Ned, who was dressed like himself - only in shirtsleeves and a vest. They were almost to the Manor. He wondered who would be there to greet them.  
  
He had an ache in his stomach and anguish in his heart, torn between wanting William and Father to be there, yet knowing it would be hell for him to see them again, understanding what would/had happened to them. Challenger had said he'd effected the changes and that he would have to accept them. Roxton *knew* that meant William and Father, but how to accept what he'd been trying to accept for years? He'd drunk himself silly, punished himself with dangerous activities, and finally traveled all the way to Tibet in order to accept what had happened. None of it has fully resolved his guilt and anger at himself, and to be honest, at both William and Father. Marguerite had told him that he'd suffered enough, that he wasn't damned for what he'd done, but there was still that part of him that couldn't let it go. Mostly, it stayed in the back of his mind, coming out only in his dreams. Somehow, she always knew when he'd had the nightmare of William's death. For at those times, she always was attentive and treated him gently. Dear God, he hoped she was all right. He knew that should he survive, it would mean nothing if she did not.  
  
Just then, the two men came around the last curve of the road and there was Avebury Manor. They walked up to the front stairs, and Roxton turned to Malone, "I think I know why I'm here. It has to do with my brother William's death and my father's reaction to it."  
  
"It seems logical," Ned agreed, feeling the older man's pain and wishing he could help him.  
  
Roxton took a deep breath and said, "Well, let's get this over with." He mounted the stairs and pulled the bell.   
  
The door was answered by a butler, who said, "Yes, may I help you?"  
  
"What's the matter? Don't you recognize me, Gardiner?" Roxton said pleasantly amused. However, since Gardiner had looked the same since ever he could remember, he still had no idea when they were.  
  
"Why, Mr. John! Whatever are you doing here? And dressed like that?" Gardiner looked truly alarmed. "If the Earl should see you...well..." he was almost wringing his hands.  
  
"Is my lady mother still up?" Roxton asked, motioning for Ned to come inside the foyer.  
  
"My Lord and Lady are at a party at the Rutherford's this evening. They are not expected back until late," Gardiner informed them.  
  
"Well, we'll have to see them when they get back," Roxton was relieved that they were from home. "My friend, Mr. Malone will require a room, and we'll need something to eat. Think you can have Mrs. Yarrow fix us up something?"  
  
"Certainly, Mr. John," the butler had regained some of his dignity, and went to take care of Roxton's requests.  
  
Ned looked around at the grand dwelling and shook his head in amazement. Roxton looked at him and just grinned, somehow immensely happy that he was able to show Ned his family home. The only person he wanted to show it to more was Marguerite, and he would, someday.  
  
Roxton motioned to the ornate staircase, "Let's go upstairs, Malone. We'll have a drink, get cleaned up, and see about untangling this mess."   
  
"What mess would that be, brother?" William, Viscount Roxton, queried in a derisive voice from the landing. "Have you been sent down from Oxford or is it something else this time?"  
  
Roxton just stared up at his long-dead brother and couldn't speak a word.  
  
To Be Continued 


	4. Many A Winding Turn

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 6/2002  
Part: 4 - Many a Winding Turn  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: CoF, Resurrection, FitS, HoTS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.  
  
  
A/N: Well, it's been a bit since my last installment. R/L and a new toy in the form of a digital video creator took up my time *g*.   
However, Roxton's been making noises about being tired of standing in the foyer, so I thought I'd let him sit down...  
  
A/N2: A small salute to brothers and those who love them.  
  
***  
  
I sought my soul but my soul I could not see.   
I sought my God but my God eluded me.   
I sought my brother—and I found all three.   
  
Anonymous  
  
  
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit.  
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John,  
But now I do respect thee as my soul.   
  
William Shakespeare (1564–1616)  
  
  
***  
  
  
Roxton stared up at William, frozen in place. Scattered shots of feelings rang through his mind - horror, shame, anger, sorrow, and   
most of all, overwhelming guilt. Unable to form a coherent response to his brother's inquiry, he closed his eyes, his face a study in   
pain.  
  
Malone glanced from William back to Roxton, and his heart contracted at his friend's obvious pain and confusion. "Are you all right?"   
he asked Roxton in a low voice, putting one hand on the man's shoulder.   
  
Roxton shook his head as if in disbelief and numbly replied, "I can't do this, Ned." He turned to look at the younger man. "I thought I   
could, but, I *can't*..."  
  
Malone didn't know what to say, but was determined to help his friend. "Let it go for now, John," he advised him in a low murmur.   
"He's here now. The hunting trip hasn't taken place yet."  
  
"But, it *will*," Roxton insisted in a hoarse voice. Malone felt helpless, unable to think of a response that would comfort Roxton.  
  
"Still as careless as ever, I see," William had descended the staircase and walked over to where Roxton and Malone stood. "What   
are you doing here, really?" Despite the censure in his voice, there was an evident underlying, if exasperated, affection in it.   
  
"William," Roxton began brokenly. "I'm come home. I..." and was unable to continue, his face ashen.  
  
"Good God, what's wrong, Jack?" William looked closely at his brother. His face and body were lean, and a deep tan showed despite   
his pallor. There was a tired wariness that had not been there the last time he had seen his younger brother. Also, fine lines were   
around his eyes, and he looked older than he should.   
  
"It's been a long trip getting here," Malone explained. "Maybe we could go somewhere and sit down?"  
  
"Very well," William replied, curious about the younger man's identity, but innate good manners prevented him from enquiring. Jack   
seemed upset and appeared to be on the verge of collapse. He took one arm and his friend the other. They helped him upstairs to   
the closest room, which happened to Lady Roxton's morning room, and assisted him over to a small sofa.   
  
Roxton sat on the sofa, completely lost in memories of events that had occurred (would occur?), and the utter conundrum he faced.   
Dear God, William. He'd thought he was ready to face him. This was no hallucination. The reality of it had confounded his thoughts   
and senses. He was so glad Malone was there; he would deal with William while he pulled himself together.   
  
"Jack looks like he could do with a drink. You do, too, for that matter," William observed. "I'll be back in a moment," and left the room.  
  
Malone crossed back over to Roxton and said, "Are you all right, Roxton?"  
  
Roxton looked up at Ned, "It's too much to take in. I thought I was stronger than this..." He shook his head.  
  
"You are one of the strongest men I have ever known," Ned replied firmly. "No one could expect you to do more, to have done more,   
than you do now." He crouched down next to his friend. "Remember what Challenger said. You have to embrace your fears, the   
changes, let them be."  
  
"But, there are no changes here," Roxton said, confused. "It's just as I remember. The term before, I'd done some stupid prank at   
school and had been sent down. I missed the last two weeks of term. Father just laughed it off, but William was furious with me. He   
told me that I'd regret wasting my time at school. " Roxton made a short laugh and looked up at Malone, "He despaired of my ever   
being serious and trying to make something of my life.  
  
"You, not serious?" Ned was a little taken aback at this thought.  
  
Roxton nodded ruefully, "I was a complete idiot -- careless, self-indulgent, and oblivious to the wants or needs of anyone else save   
myself..." His voice trailed off and he gave a wry look toward Ned.  
  
Just then, William returned with Gardiner in tow, carrying a large tray with a decanter and glasses. The butler deposited the tray and   
was making to pour drinks when William said, "That will be all, Gardiner." His face was impassive, but the servant cast a concerned   
glance at Mr. John as he passed by. He was rewarded by a small smile from the younger son and a slight nod as he left the room.   
He went to inform the below stairs of the newest happenings and to check on the meal for the men.  
  
William handed a whiskey to Malone, who thanked him sincerely. He then walked over to where Jack sat and handed him a glass. He watched as Jack lifted his eyes up to meet his, and he was moved to see such love and pain in their depths.   
  
Roxton took the offered glass, barely able to meet William's gaze. He sipped the amber contents and managed to get out, "Thanks."   
  
William sat down and looked at the other two men expectantly. "Well, I'm waiting for an explanation," he finally said, with a faint air of   
aristocratic arrogance so reminiscent of his father that it made Roxton's throat ache.  
  
Roxton looked at Malone, who shrugged, as if to say, it's your house. "We've come down for a bit of a holiday, William," he began   
awkwardly. "Taking a few days off."  
  
"It's just a few weeks to the Long Vac," William replied. "Couldn't you wait until then?" He looked again at the strain in his brother's   
face, "No, I guess not." He placed his hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Jack? You look like hell," he added worriedly.  
  
Roxton didn't know what to say to William. 'Well, you know that running around trying to keep from being eaten by dinosaurs, killed by   
historical figures, and navigating shifting planes of reality will really take it out of you, old boy.' That would get him committed for sure.   
"At least introduce me to your friend," his older brother's tone of 'have you forgotten all of your manners?' brought back an old,   
purposely suppressed memories of brangling with William over everything from politics to proper manners to the right way to address a lady. Always a differing opinion, but ever with affection and security in the love of his brother.   
  
"William, may I present my friend, Edward T. Malone," Roxton gestured from William to Ned, who stood up. "Ned, may I present my   
brother, Viscount Roxton." Roxton grinned briefly, "Ned's a reporter with the International Herald Tribune."  
  
"How do you do," William replied a bit stiffly. Damn, he thought. Jack knows how I feel about reporters, and now he's brought one   
into this house!  
  
"Nice to meet you," Ned replied, a bit confused over the subtext that was going on, but willing to let things ride for now. He nodded at   
the two men and sat back down.  
  
Roxton walked over to the mantle by the fireplace, gazing absently at his mother's collection of porcelain figurines. He shot back the   
last of his whiskey and turned to look at his brother, "I just need time to work some things out."  
  
"Is there anything I can do?" William was very concerned. Jack had got up to some pranks before and indulged himself somewhat   
with the ladies, but never had he looked like this - almost careworn.  
  
"Thanks, but no," Roxton smiled tiredly.  
  
"You won't tell me what's going on, but you'll tell that reporter?" came the somewhat hurt reply.  
  
"He's my friend, Will," Roxton explained quietly. "He's aware of what's going on and involved. I don't want to drag you into this. You   
just keep on doing what you do. It's important to me that you do that."  
  
"What's so important about what I do? You've never made any secret that you think my work studying and preserving the history of   
Wiltshire is nothing more than just a way to pass the time until I assume the duties of being the Earl of Roxton," William's voice held a   
bit of defensive censure. "While, of course, being a man's man, everything that you do is suitably appropriate for a member of our   
class."  
  
Roxton looked abashed, "I was mistaken. What you do is very important and I should have never said those things. It was very wrong of me...and...I'm sorry." The last was finished in a harsh whisper as he gazed at his brother's face. It was a younger face than the one that looked up at him as he lay dying in his arms, but just as dear to him. He was so sorry, so everlastingly, damnably, ineffectually sorry.  
  
"Jack," William put his hands on his younger brother's shoulders. "Please, tell me. I want to help."  
  
Roxton thought about what his life was like during this time, and felt ashamed. He looked at William and took a deep breath, "I don't   
mean to alarm you. I've just come to some pretty damning conclusions about myself and what I've been doing with my life. I have to   
think about what I want to do about it."  
  
William's heart was full listening to his younger brother say the things that he had always hoped he would come to realize. Jack was   
essentially a very good man, and he was sure now that his life would *not* be wasted on the brainless pursuit of pleasure and   
excitement.   
  
"I'm proud of you, Jack," William smiled at Roxton and gripped his shoulders and gave him a little shake.  
  
Roxton felt something breaking loose within himself. He looked at William, tears brimming in his eyes, and then threw his arms about   
him, hugging him close. William, somewhat surprised by this display of affection in front of Malone, nevertheless hugged Jack back   
hard.   
  
"I love you, Will," Roxton spoke hoarsely, unable to say any more.  
  
"It's all right, Jack," William said softly, one arm about the younger man's waist, the other holding the back of his head to the hollow of   
his shoulder. "I love you, too. It will be all right. There's nothing that we can't fix, not together."  
  
Roxton felt these words tug at his very soul. "I wish it were always so," he eased back and looked intently at William.  
  
"It will be, just you see," William replied earnestly and smiled encouragingly.  
  
A knock at the door and the entry of Gardiner announcing that their meal would be ready in few minutes interrupted the moment.  
  
"Why don't I meet you two down in the dining room a little later?" William suggested, insightfully thinking that Jack might want to talk with his friend.  
  
"All right," Roxton replied with a thin smile. He was barely holding his emotions in check and was grateful for the respite. William   
exited with Gardiner, and he turned to where Malone had risen from his chair.  
  
"What is it?" Ned asked, knowing by the look on Roxton's face that something important had happened.  
  
"I believe I know why I'm here," the older man replied.  
  
"Is it about William and your father, like you thought?" asked Malone.  
  
"No," Roxton shook his head in wonder. "It's not about them, not really. It's about me."  
  
"You?" Malone confirmed.  
  
"Yes," Roxton said as he looked down at his hands. "Until this time, I'd passed through all my life as if it were all a game. An endless   
pursuit of amusement, debauchery, and excitement." He gave a derisive laugh and glanced at Malone. "I was the quintessential   
younger son, held only in reserve should something, God forbid, happen to the almighty Heir. And, oh, how I spent so much time   
trying to live up to the essential worthlessness of my role in life."  
  
"But that's so unlike you," Malone protested.  
  
"Thanks, Ned," Roxton said with appreciation. "But, you didn't know me then. I was a total bastard. The only thing, the *only* person   
that kept me from going totally off the edge  
was William. Mother cared, but didn't know what to do for me. Father, well, he bloody well didn't give a damn as long as I didn't get myself killed. William, he always tried to keep me somewhere near the line, if not actually toeing it."  
  
"He cared a lot for you," Ned said softly.  
  
"He was my brother," Roxton replied with simple anguish.  
  
Ned looked at his friend and thought how he would feel if he lost Roxton, no matter what the reason. It wasn't a pleasant thought.  
Roxton rubbed his face with his hands and looked at Ned, "I remember now what happened, why I came home before the end of   
term." He paused for a moment, then continued, "A classmate of mine, Ian Tabersham, was killed at my college. He was very drunk, well, we all were, and he went climbing on the roof of the chapel. I don't even remember why he went up there, but he fell off and died. Such a complete and utter waste." Roxton closed his eyes for a moment, then continued, "There was an enquiry, of course. It was determined that it was death by mischance."   
  
He opened his eyes again and looked at Ned, "Mischance meaning tough luck old son; you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't even know him very well, but it got me thinking. For some reason, it made me stop for just a moment and think, 'What if *I'd* been up on that rooftop?'. It could have been me; I was arrogant enough to think that nothing could happen to me, no matter what I did. I was still drunk when I started home. I don't know how I got home; I just remember walking up to the door and Gardiner   
answering it, a lot like he did tonight."  
  
Ned raised his eyebrows at this and said, "What happened then?"  
  
"Father and Mother were from home, but William was there. We talked for a long time and it was like we started over again. I mean,   
we'd always had a care for each other, but it was like we started fresh, became closer. After that, we started doing things together.   
Mostly, I would do things with him that I wouldn't do with anyone else. Father thought I'd gone crazy, but it was wonderful. We enjoyed our times together. William even started going riding with me when I was home." Roxton's voice trailed off as he became lost in pleasant memories.  
  
"Sounds like he was a great older brother," Malone offered with a smile.  
  
"Yes," Roxton agreed. "He was. But, when Father would start in on him about being *more of a man* like me, it was so hard. I'm not   
sure that I didn't agree just a bit with Father that he might be better off if he toughened up a little, but I never liked the way Father talked to him."  
  
"Was it that bad?" Malone asked.  
  
"Yes," Roxton nodded sadly. "He never let up on him. That's why, eventually, William gave in. The trip to Kenya, I'd planned it for a   
while when he came and asked me if he could come along. I was so excited, although I knew that he was really mostly doing it to   
please Father. It didn't matter, because Will was going to go along with me. When we hooked up with Pearson Rice, I'd thought   
nothing more could happen to make me any happier than I was." He sighed softly, "I was right. I wasn't happy again for a very long   
time."  
  
"You still think you don't deserve to be happy, do you?" Ned asked him gently.  
  
Roxton looked up, a little surprised at the reporter's question, "I'm perfectly fine now, thank you." His voice taking on the semi-strident   
mocking tone that had categorized it from the early days of the Challenger expedition.  
  
"Uh-uh," Ned shook his head. "I know you. You still think it's wrong for you to be really happy."  
  
"But, I do want to be happy," Roxton replied hollowly, his defensive posture gone almost instantly. "I think I could be..."  
  
"With Marguerite," Ned finished for him.   
  
Roxton nodded at the younger man, his face a study of emotions, battling to the forefront was a determination to finish what he had   
started here. "I'm fighting the changes that I made that were the reason that William and I got closer," he said finally. "Part of the   
reason why William went on the trip to Kenya is that he was always talking about us doing something together that I would really like.   
The trip also satisfied Father's desire to 'make a man' out of him. It was supposed to be a win all the way round for everyone." He   
paused to gather his thoughts, then continued. "When it all happened, I went a little crazy. I don't remember a lot of what happened   
after Father died. I just went through the motions, then I spent a long time running away from it. I tried a lot of things to come to grips   
with what happened, then the War, then the Challenger expedition. Each time something new came along, I put another layer   
between William and myself, thinking that, if I could put enough layers, I would stop feeling this horrible sense of loss." Roxton turned   
to look at Ned, "I didn't realize until a little while ago that I also put all those layers between my good memories and feelings of William   
and my life here." He looked around the room and smiled slightly, "I was so busy condemning myself that I forgot to let myself live.   
When I met Marguerite; it was like something came alive inside me, no matter what I tried, it wouldn't stop or go away."   
  
Malone smiled at this and said, "She has a way of getting to people, I'll grant you that. But, why don't you think you should be happy?"  
  
Roxton thought on this for a moment, then said softly, "I think perhaps that if I'd continued on the way that I had been going, if I'd stayed the ignorant fool that I had been, perhaps, just perhaps, William would not have gone on that expedition with me. I would have not been as close to him and wouldn't have put my voice with Father's to convince him to come along with me."   
  
"You don't know that," Malone objected.  
  
"No, but it's a good possibility," Roxton replied intensely. "I also think that if I'd been a better man to begin with, the whole thing wouldn't have happened because I would have understood that William didn't need to go on safari to prove himself. He already knew who he was and what he wanted to do with his life. I was the one who didn't have a bloody clue as to how to go on, always searching for something to validate my life."  
  
"You *are* a good man, John," Malone said with conviction. "I know you are, so does Marguerite. It wasn't you that caused the   
accident to happen. It was a chain of events that concluded with a horrible finish. No one, not even Challenger, could have predicted   
what happened."  
  
"I know that in my mind, Ned," Roxton said hollowly. "But, my heart, my soul they don't seem to be able to accept it."  
  
"Then, that's it," Ned affirmed softly.   
  
"Yes," Roxton agreed with a sad smile. "What I chose to do, what made me so happy, ultimately helped my brother to his death, no   
matter that it was my fault or not. That's what I have to live with, accept, or I'll never be able to be happy and complete with Marguerite   
and in my life," he finished.  
  
Malone looked at the man who'd saved his life so many times and thought of the grief he'd had to endure. "You deserve to be happy,   
John. Don't you think you've suffered enough?"  
  
"Marguerite asked me that once," Roxton said. "I didn't really answer her. I was afraid to. She sees straight through me and she   
would have known how I felt. It's hard enough getting her to open up without putting more things in the way."  
  
"She cares for you so much," Malone said with conviction. "Don't you think you should give her the chance to help you? You know,   
you don't have to do it alone. You have friends."  
  
"I know, Neddy-boy," Roxton replied with affection. "I know."   
  
Silence fell for a short while, neither man uncomfortable with it, each thinking deeply about what had occurred and had been said. At   
length, Roxton said, "I left before Father and Mother got home that night, went back to Oxford. I think we'd better go now."  
  
"Did you want to say goodbye to William?" Ned asked.  
  
"No, I'd better not, I don't know how I would," Roxton answered. "We should just go now, while we can."  
  
The two men made their way downstairs to the foyer, then out the front door without encountering anyone. Following a garden path,   
they made their way across the Manor grounds.  
  
"Which way?" Malone asked.  
  
"Keep on this path until we reach the dance," Roxton replied. "I want to see the faerie ring again. She came here you know, as a   
child."  
  
"Marguerite?"   
  
"Yes, she told me that she played near the standing stones of Avebury," Roxton's smile was visible in the dim moonlight.  
  
The standing stones made long shadows in the moonlight. The two men walked to the Swindon stone. Roxton stopped and looked   
up at the mammoth piece of rock, then glanced round at the circle of stones. "In the center, I think," he said enigmatically, and   
gestured for Malone to follow him to the middle of the standing stones.  
  
"Why the center?" Ned was very curious. Roxton seemed to know what he was about.  
  
"Here is the Cove," Roxton indicated with a nod of his head. "Here's the power of the circle. You use it to take me to her. Take me to   
Marguerite."  
  
Ned looked uncertain, "I don't know if we're done here."  
  
"I know," Roxton replied in a calm voice. "My choice is to live. My choice is her, because, without her, there is nothing. I've have   
nothing before, and I never want to go back to it. Each day with her is a lifetime. No matter how infuriating or exasperating, she's still   
a joy to me," his voice was emotional yet full of assurance. "Everyone of you: Challenger, Veronica, Finn, Marguerite, you Ned, each   
one you is a part of my life. My life since I came to the Plateau - since I started living again. So, I choose to live and be with you, my   
friends. I think William would like that for me," Roxton finished with a tremulous sigh, a great weight had been lifted from him, and best of all, he had lifted it from himself.  
  
Malone looked at Roxton and nodded. His friend had finally come to grips with his past and his present. Now, they had to look to the   
future. "Are you sure this is where we should be? In the middle of some old rocks?" Malone was a little skeptical.  
  
"Some ancient rocks, my friend," Roxton grinned at him. "And you just tune into the frequency of it. William always said there was a   
reason that the largest standing stone ring was at Avebury. I believe they're called intersecting energy planes, and the center of one of the biggest is right under your feet, Malone."  
  
Malone looked down with a bit of alarm then back up at Roxton with a slightly accusatory look. Roxton just looked amused and held out his hand. Ned took Roxton's hand and said as he closed his eyes, "You'd better be right, Roxton." Malone keyed in on the immense power that emanated from the circle.  
  
"I am Ned," Roxton said seriously. "Take me to Marguerite, please. I think she's in trouble and needs my help."  
  
"She's always in trouble, Roxton," Malone noted acerbically. He focused on the deep and abiding love and need Roxton had for her   
rising from his being in waves of shimmering power.  
  
"That's why I'm always around to set her straight, Ned," Roxton replied amicably as the sensation of the shifting planes engulfed them   
again.  
  
To Be Continued 


	5. The Circle Be Unbroken

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 7/2002  
Part: 5 - The Circle Be Unbroken  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox   
alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: OoT, Prophesy, The Secret, Trapped, HotS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.  
  
A/N: Thanks again for the nice feedback. It's music to the eyes of fanfic writers to see email about their stories...  
  
A/N2: I have again taken such liberties with history and cultures that you must indulge my whims to alter things to suit my story. In many Asian and Druidic/Celtic religions, circles are considered sacred. Be assured that nothing in my story attempts to truly explain, deny, or support any religious point of view. Please just use my semi-accurate ramblings as a base of fancy to jump into the storyline.  
  
***  
  
She is a theme of honor and renown,  
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,  
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,  
And fame in time to come canonize us.   
  
William Shakespeare (1564–1616)  
  
  
"When I'm good, I'm very, very good. But, when I'm bad, I'm better."  
  
Mae West (1892-1980)  
  
***  
  
It was hard to be at your best while being totally terrorized, Marguerite thought frantically. The altar that had previously been put to such wonderful use was now to be the site of her death. It wasn't fitting, she thought with bitterness, the memory of one of her greatest joys being sullied by these idiots in tasteless robes. Oh, God, Roxton, where are you?  
  
Warbek held the ritual dagger high above his head, his elation growing almost beyond his capacity to control it. He *would* triumph; finally, his circle would be complete, the way that he wanted it completed. He began the chant to purify the coming sacrifice.  
  
"Spirits of nature, of the trees and rocks, of the animals and Earth, show me your favor and your companionship, share with me the bond of spirit and of life on Earth. Grant me the power to purify this profane offering. Consecrate this misbegotten being so she may be offered up to you in the place of that which she has so recklessly conjured."   
  
Warbek passed the dagger from side to side in arcs over Marguerite's body. Moving around the altar in a slow and deliberate fashion, he began chanting the same phrases over and over again, "To Taranis we give the knife, to Teutates we give the water, to Esus we give the shroud." His chanting became mumbling, the look in his eyes crazed and positively evil. The other robed and hooded figures were silent in their circle around the altar.  
  
Marguerite was thinking rapidly while the Druid was performing the ritual. Somehow, the words that he was speaking seemed very familiar to her, and she felt that she should know their significance, but that the knowledge was somehow just outside the reaches of her conscious mind. She wanted to panic, to scream for Roxton again, but knew that it would be futile. Wherever John was, she knew that he would be trying to get to her as soon as possible. It was quite probable he still had those Spaniards to deal with, and it looked like she had been shifted to another time.   
  
Time. There was something about time that was bothering her, too. She looked, really looked, at the man chanting over her, waving the knife. He had a hard face and eyes that were flat and malevolent, marked by an unholy glee that told her that he was enjoying the thought of her death way too much for a man who said that he was just trying to prevent her from destroying all of them. That was it, she decided. This guy wanted something, and in her book, if there wasn't something physically valuable on the line, the only thing worth going to all this trouble for was power. Somehow, by killing her, locking her in this chamber without a way for her soul to escape, he would be securing   
power for himself.   
  
Forcing herself to be calm, she began to center herself. Roxton, in what he'd called 'evening the score of secrets', had shared some of his experiences from his time at the Jokhang temple in Tibet. One of the things he had shared was meditation, relaxing and letting her self return to harmony. At first, she'd wanted to mock it, strangely afraid. But, she didn't say anything until he'd finished explaining it to her. She'd then only asked, "What do I say?" He'd looked at her, a small smile on his face; happy that she'd accepted this part of himself he'd offered to her. He'd then replied, "You say what you feel, Marguerite. No one can tell you how to feel, can they? You don't have to *say*   
anything at all, if you don't want to. It's your circle, your choice." She'd smiled back at him at that. He knew how much she needed to be in control, and he'd just handed over control of herself to herself with nary a fuss. It had taken her a while to actually do it, but she'd begun practicing the meditation each day upon rising, before she went to greet the day and her companions. In the short time she'd been doing it, it had worked immeasurably in easing some of her stress and irritation, but had not reduced her need for coffee in the morning.  
  
She felt a calmness wrap around her like a gentle blanket, and with it came a newfound strength that infused her being. She realized that everything that had happened to her since she had come to the Plateau had prepared her for this. All the struggles, tears, losses, triumphs, knowledge gained, and the rebirth of her heart and soul were connected. She knew now that Roxton's opening the vent to this chamber had let out a part of her that had always been missing before. She'd felt its lack, but now she was whole again.  
  
She also realized that there was more - this was just the beginning. This crazed man was trying to end her circle, to not allow it to complete itself. He was trying to alter her path, change the outcome. Challenger was always going on about how you could change the future, and that Gypsy, Isadore, had told her that you could change your destiny if you were strong enough. Roxton was forever telling her that she was the most powerful woman he'd ever had the privilege to have known, and he was certain that she could do anything if she so chose to do so. Marguerite knew that John believed in her as well as loved her, and remembering that was the last impetus that she required. Roxton had told her that she needed to have faith in herself and that it would unlock the last of her fears holding her back. She damn well hoped he was right about the extent of her personal power, because she was about to field test that theory.  
  
***  
  
Roxton and Malone became aware of their surroundings gradually. It was the humidity and the smell that they recognized; they were in the jungle, and it seemed to be the Plateau. The scream of a raptor on the hunt clinched the deal.   
  
"We're back on the Plateau," Malone observed as they both crouched low and scanned for the location of the dinosaur. Each of them automatically reached for weapons that weren't there; both made silent curses as they realized their lack almost simultaneously.  
  
"Very observant of you, Neddie-boy," Roxton replied sardonically. "I see you've not lost your charming habit of re-stating the obvious."  
  
"It's one of my more endearing qualities," Malone agreed nodding. "Behind that stand of trees, you think?" he gestured to the left and down the hillside.  
  
"Yes," Roxton agreed. "It sounds like it's made a kill. I vote we move in that direction for a bit," he gestured in the opposite direction of the raptor, "and go like hell."  
  
"I agree," Malone matched his actions to Roxton's words, and the two men made their way as rapidly and as silently as possible away from the raptor.  
  
"Which way to find Marguerite?" Ned asked when they'd put enough distance between them and the raptor to talk.  
  
Roxton looked around and noted that they were on the way to the Inland Sea. He'd know this path anywhere. It led to the cave that Marguerite and he had been trapped in. The cave that had changed his life. For a place that had almost killed him, he was very nostalgic about it. He had a suspicion that the discoveries they'd made it in that cave had something to do with what was happening.  
  
"I think I know where we can find Marguerite," Roxton finally said. He looked at Malone, "Do you remember anything about some Druids on the Plateau?" His tone was casual, but his expression thoughtful as they continued to walk as quickly as they could.  
  
"You know, I thought it was weird, but I've been having these dreams lately," Ned replied with wonder. "They've all been about Druids here on the Plateau. Marguerite, you, and I find them and they were going to kill her..."  
  
"Until they found her birthmark," Roxton finished for him.  
  
"Yeah," Malone replied, slightly puzzled. "How did you know that?" he asked.  
  
"Because I've had the same dreams, Marguerite, too," Roxton answered. "Only, I don't think they're dreams," he continued grimly. "I think they're memories."  
  
"Memories that we've forgotten and are just now remembering," Malone said hollowly. He'd had just a little too much of that in his life lately.  
  
"Or been made to forget," Roxton suggested as they picked up the pace even more. They felt an urgency that exceeded their previous worries.   
  
Malone looked sharply at Roxton at this last, "Do you remember that guy? He talked mostly to Marguerite," Ned asked suddenly.  
  
"Yes," Roxton nodded. "He told her she was the reincarnation of some priestess."  
  
"Named Morrigan," Malone added as he remembered.  
  
"Come on. We've got to go to her, now," Roxton moved suddenly.   
  
"Where?" Malone panted as he chased after the rapidly moving older man.  
  
"The cave," Roxton snarled. At Malone's questioning look, he continued, "Marguerite and I found this cave a couple of weeks ago. It was sealed up with a door that had Celtic runes on it."  
  
"That a bit of a coincidence," Ned observed as they made their way up a steep hill, sweat pouring from their bodies.  
  
"No coincidence," Roxton shook his head. "We got the door open by accident, and what we found inside was amazing. The whole place was a tomb. We found a body of a woman wrapped in a shroud, sealed in this small cave. The thing is, she had the same birthmark as Marguerite."  
  
"The spirals," Malone observed thoughtfully. "This whole spiral thing is amazing."  
  
"Circles turned upon themselves," Roxton responded.   
  
"Yes," Malone looked at Roxton. "You understand."  
  
"A circle is life," Roxton said simply. "Spirals are circles within circles. Great power," he added, his breathe short with effort.  
  
"Marguerite has the mark of spirals on her," Malone confirmed.  
  
"Yes, the body we found had the exact same marks. At the time, we thought that she might be an ancestor of Marguerite's, but I'm beginning to think it was her," Roxton explained.  
  
"The two of you found her body, while she was still alive?" Ned was totally confused, but the sensation was beginning to be very familiar.  
  
"Hundreds of years after she died," Roxton replied grimly. "It seems crazy, but we both saw her. They sealed her tomb so her spirit couldn't escape. They wanted to trap her there for all time," he added angrily.  
  
"Then, you think that's what's happening now?" Malone asked.  
  
"Each of us has been taken to a time of great importance in our lives, right?" he asked the younger man.  
  
"Yes," Ned responded. "Each of us has been brought to a critical time in our lives, a time when we have made decisions that affect our beings, the way we respond to the rest of our lives."  
  
"This must be the most critical time for Marguerite," Roxton said with certainty. "It will decide whether she lives or dies, whether she accepts who she is, and whether her spirit will remain free and with her self."  
  
"We'd better hurry, then," Ned said moving even faster.  
  
"My thoughts exactly," Roxton replied and they ran down the path to the cave.  
  
***  
  
"You can't kill me," Marguerite said in a calmer voice than she felt. "You know I can come back, no matter what you do. I'm here, and you killed me before. It's useless."  
  
Warbek froze at her words, interrupted in mid-chant. He stared at her for a few seconds, and then said shaking his head, "It cannot be. I have read the runes. I will have your power; my circle will finally be complete. You will be nothing, and I will rule the Druids for all time."  
  
"All time just got a whole lot shorter than you think," she taunted, but inwardly her stomach lurched as the faceless, silent minions grabbed her and began dragging her down the steep incline to the pool of water. She didn't know how she knew, but she *knew* what they were going to do to her. They would drown her, while at the same time this lunatic would stab her, and later they would wrap her in the shroud, marked with her birthmark, sealing her body and soul. The triple death, trading her life for the cessation of the storm. The gods would be appeased and the balance kept.  
  
"You have power here no more, Morrigan," Warbek said with arrogance, but a tinge of fear tainted his voice, and she could see his eyes held trepidation.  
  
"You name me," she called out, her head held high as she was pulled into the water. "You know the power of a name, don't you?"  
  
"Then, what's mine?" Warbek shot back, more afraid than he wanted to admit to himself, and gestured to his minions to hold her still.  
  
Marguerite searched her memories and came up with a face that matched the one standing before her on the edge of the water. She had last seen him wearing the uniform of the German army. His name had been Oberst Wilhelm Stoehr, and he'd been responsible for a lot of pain, for her and thousands of others. He'd been greedy, conniving, rapacious, and totally power mad. Apparently, he ran true to form whatever time he was in. She closed her eyes and let the waves of energy that she was feeling flow through instead of around her. So much was happening; the climax of events was coming soon. And there it was - his face again. This time, he was wearing the drab   
robes favored by so many of the Druid priests.  
  
She opened her eyes and mocked with a false smile, "Still looking for the easy way out, aren't you, Warbek?" At the indrawn hiss of his breath, her smile widened, "You never believed nor cared. You wanted it easy - no taxes, no work, always being catered to." The minions, stunned by these revelations loosened their hold on Marguerite. She shook herself free of the hands that held her, walking slowly through the icy water to the edge where Warbek stood. She held up her right hand, pointed her index finger at him, and declared in ringing tones, "You are a liar and a fraud, Warbek of the Averni! Weak and spineless, you hold no power over that which is mine." With this last she ascended out of the water and stood on the ledge next to the Druid.  
  
"You power was lacking in the Great Battle," Warbek accused. "You were defeated and all was lost. They wandered for centuries, waiting for your return. Bochra was a fool, but I am not. I wait for no one, especially a woman who will not yield her place to her betters." His tone change to taunting, "Tiarnan watched and wept as you died. You would not heed him, and all of them paid the price. He took the blame for your death, and was never the same after that. He just disappeared one day, never to return."  
  
"Some paid more dearly than others, Warbek," Marguerite said coldly, looking steadily at him. "Some paid the price of trusting where no trust should have been placed. That was my weakness, my flaw. Tiarnan was steadfast to the end and bore no fault. The faults were mine alone. I took the emeralds and hid them where you couldn't find them, didn't I? You never could divine anything of importance, and now you think you can read the runes? You are small and weak, like all whose grasp exceeds their reach are."  
  
"Not so weak as to not know how to harm you where it would hurt you the most," Warbek shouted and motioned to the water. A mist arose, and then a clearing shaped in a perfect circle appeared in the midst of it. Within the clearing there appeared images of Roxton and Malone as they made their way to the cave. "Behold, your beloved Tiarnan! I wonder how he will take being left for power again this time?" taunted Warbek. "Shall I just kill him now," he added, raising an arm, "or wait the few minutes until he and his companion arrive?"  
  
"Stop, or I'll make you regret very existence," Marguerite snarled savagely. "Damn you, my choice was forced on my by you, and I have   
  
lived to regret it ever after," she said hoarsely. "But, I'm done regretting. I'm not living in the past or for the past any more. I make my own destiny and I *will not* allow you to harm him or anyone I care about," her voice rose as she spoke, ending on a shout and she took several steps toward Warbek and stopped directly in front of him. Stray sparks of electricity lit the air as she moved and her eyes had taken on a green glowing reminiscent of the emeralds she had once hid then replaced in the keystone of their altar. The vision in the mist disappeared suddenly.  
  
"You've remembered," Warbek was horrified and began backing up.  
  
Marguerite said in a calm, steely voice, "Roxton released the other half of my soul. No matter what you do, you can't stop me. I am here. I am whole, and I *remember*. And, you will soon wish to forget!" She followed the cringing man up the stone path, moving deliberately, as a cat might stalk a mouse.  
  
Warbek practically ran to the altar, and then turned around, putting his hands on the edge to keep him from collapsing in ignoble fear. How had Tiarnan freed her? This Plateau, with all of its intersecting planes of power, how had he come to be here, and how had he found her within it? "I have foretold it," he babbled, his eyes crazed. "Your power will be mine. The storm that approaches will be controlled by me."  
  
Marguerite stopped several paces away from Warbek and the altar and lifted her arms, palms upward, and slowly described a circle until her hands met over her head. She then moved her hands down together, as if holding a ball in her hands, to her chest level. Within her hands a glow of light began to shine. The intensity of the light grew in power as she murmured a pattern of words unknown to Warbek.  
  
"Great goddess, you have freed me from the icy prison of water. This is the beginning. Life renews itself by Your magic, Earth Goddess. I walk the earth in friendship, not in dominance. Mother Goddess and Father God, instill within me through my love a warmth for all living things. Teach me to revere the Earth and all its treasures. May I never forget that love is all."  
  
Warbek cried, "You cannot stop the storm your power conjured, Morrigan! You will be the cause of the destruction of all if you chose to keep your power this time! You cannot stop it, nor can you divert it, for Bochra is not here to help you, you bitch!" The Druid's voice took on a high pitch screeching quality that left no doubt as to the lack of his sanity.  
  
Marguerite looked up finally at Warbek. Her face was coldly magnificent, and power radiated throughout her being. She was about to speak, when she noticed movement in the cave behind the altar. Roxton and Malone appeared at that moment. Warbek, with the instincts of a rat on a sinking ship, screamed for his minions to attack them and scuttled to escape. Marguerite noted that both Roxton and Malone seemed to be doing fine, so she concentrated on Warbek.  
  
Roxton saw Marguerite acknowledge his presence, but she seemed to be preoccupied with that one individual. Well, Malone and he could take care of these creatures. The two men waded into the ensuing fistfight with such fervor that the Druid minions were dispatched in short order.  
  
"Where's Marguerite?" Malone panted as they took stock of the bodies littering the floor of the cave.  
  
"I saw her heading over toward the rock chimney," Roxton replied as he moved rapidly in the direction he'd seen Marguerite and the other Druid go. He knew something important was happening and that he had to be there.  
  
As the two men reached the rock chimney, they saw Marguerite and the Druid locked in battle. They didn't touch one another, but their hands were raised and pulsing waves of energy pummeled each other's bodies as they fought. Savage winds buffeted the other occupants of the cave, but they didn't seem to touch the two combatants.  
  
"Yield!" commanded Marguerite. "You cannot hope to win."  
  
"I may not win, but you will surely lose," taunted Warbek. "You cannot control me and the approaching storm, and you will chose to try to control the storm, for you will never willingly give up your power. I will escape to fight another day. It is who you are."  
  
"It was who I was," Marguerite acknowledged. "But, it is not who I am now. For all that has come to pass between us, you have learned nothing about me." She looked over at where Roxton stood with Malone. "He knows me, and still forgives me for what I've done to him, over and over again, before and now." She gazed at Roxton, her heart in her eyes and voice, "The love that he brings to me is as pure and noble as his soul, and I will not ignore nor waste it this time."   
  
Deliberately turning away from Warbek, she said to Roxton, "I give my love to you, Lord John Roxton - my Tiarnan - my heart and soul.   
  
No greater power is that than love, and freely I give it to you." With that, she dropped her hands and the waves of energy ceased to flow from her being. She gazed at Roxton, the great weight of fear and despair lifted by her faith in him and the power of their love.  
  
A great cry came up from Warbek and the energies that had been flowing around the room centered themselves directly on him. "No!" he screamed in incredible pain.  
  
"You wanted the power," Marguerite turned to him with regret. "You didn't know what you asked for, did you?" She looked down at where Warbek writhed on the floor of the cave, in the throes of death. "I am truly sorry, Warbek," she added softly as he died, eyes wide open with fear and understanding of what had finally happened to him.  
  
Roxton rapidly crossed over to Marguerite and took her into his arms, "Marguerite," he said over and over again as he held her.  
  
"I'm sorry, John," Margeurite said tearfully.  
  
"For what?" asked Roxton, stroking the hair from her face.  
  
"For choosing power and wealth over you," she replied sadly.   
  
"But, you didn't," Roxton said puzzled.  
  
"I did before," Marguerite explained. "You can remember if you try. The energies of the planes are very high now; everything is coming together very fast. The past, the present, and the future have almost melded."  
  
"I don't need to remember what happened before," Roxton replied with surety. He took her face in both of his hands, "I know how you feel now, and I love you, Marguerite. That's all that matters." A watery smile from Marguerite made him grin in return and they touched their foreheads together and just gazed at each other.  
  
"I don't want to interrupt a moment," Malone said wryly. "But, there's a storm brewing and it doesn't have anything to do with the strange weather patterns on the Plateau."  
  
Roxton and Marguerite turned to Malone who indicated the area directly below the rock chimney. Whirling winds stirred debris in frantic circles and a roaring sound from above could be heard.  
  
"The storm is approaching," Marguerite said with concern. "We have to proceed to the center as soon as possible."  
  
"But, we're not all together," Roxton said.  
  
"He's right," Malone agreed. "Challenger is convinced we have to be together, ready to face our fears and embrace the changes, or it won't work - we won't be able to stop the spirals."  
  
"OK," Marguerite nodded her head. "George may be wrong about some things, but this I believe I'll take his word on this."  
  
"With all that's happened, I'm beginning to think I believe in Father Christmas," Roxton quipped as they made their way out of the cave.  
  
"Don't even think it," Marguerite shook her head as they finally were free of the cave that had been the scene of her death. "He just might   
  
show up on the Plateau, the way our lives are going." She breathed deeply and added, "Thank God. If I never go into another cave again, it will be too soon!"  
  
"Can you stop the storm, Marguerite?" Malone asked as they stood in the midst of the growing maelstrom.  
  
"Not by myself," she explained. "I gave away part of my power in the battle with Warbek. I'll need Veronica's help to control it, that and everyone's energies to help us if we're to stop it."  
  
"Why did you cause the storm in the first place?" Malone wondered.  
  
"I had to, in order to try and stop Warbek the first time," Marguerite replied. She shook her head, "He betrayed us to the Roman garrison, said that we were sacrificing humans in violation of the Roman law. He gave away the location of our tribe, for money, and a chance to gain the emeralds and the power they represented."  
  
"I remember now," Roxton said hollowly. "They slaughtered us, the Averni, old and young, searching for our Druids, killing us because we would not betray them. In the end, it did no good, for Warbek had betrayed us all." Roxton looked at Marguerite and shook his head in sorrow, "You started the storm in an attempt to stop Warbek from getting the emeralds and the power, but you came to help us and didn't finish the spell."  
  
"I was too late to help and incomplete in my conjuring," Marguerite said bitterly. "I would not trust my heart, trust you, as you wanted me to. I wanted to keep all the power, the wealth of my position, and thought if I gave in to you, I would lose it. In the end, I could not keep either my power or you, and Warbek killed me, placed me in the cave, and sealed my soul, trapped it for eternity." She looked at Roxton, tears flowing down her face, "It was only your love and faith in me, beyond all reason, that kept us alive in that cave and allowed you to free me, reunite me with myself. Thank you..." her voice trailed off as she sobbed.  
  
Roxton pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, letting her cry. "I'd never leave you or stop loving you, even if I ever wanted to for an insane moment, you know that," he gently reminded her. She nodded, but still sobbed against his chest, the emotion of the whole day finally breaking down her formidable walls.   
  
"It's all right, Marguerite," soothed Roxton. "It's not every day you find out you've been reunited with half of your soul and have to save the universe."  
  
"We have to save the universe, too?" Marguerite looked up, her voice incredulous. "Could this day get any better?"  
  
"And, she's back," intoned Malone gleefully.  
  
"And certainly not in the mood, Malone," Marguerite sniffed, and then spoiled the whole moment by reaching over and hugging the startled journalist. "Don't you ever leave us again like that, Neddie-boy, or I'll have to hurt you," she shook the younger man's shoulders for emphasis.  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," Ned replied, bemused, but delighted by her actions.   
  
"The storm," Roxton prodded. "Where do we go now?" he asked.  
  
"We go to the center, where Veronica is," Malone said with certainty.  
  
"We need to get Finn before we do," Marguerite said and Roxton nodded.  
  
"Yes, and Challenger, too," Malone added.  
  
"You know when Challenger is, right?" Roxton said to Malone.  
  
"Yes, I think I'd better go see if he can leave the future and come to the center," Ned replied.  
  
"We'll have to split up," Marguerite decided. "Time is growing short."  
  
"Where do we come back to? Where is this center, and when?" Roxton asked.   
  
"It's our present day," answered Malone, and Marguerite looked at him. "I can see the planes," he explained.   
  
"All of them?" she marveled.  
  
"Most of them, but I can't go to all of them," Ned explained.  
  
Marguerite shook her head in wonder, "Your time in the spirit world, right?"  
  
"Yes," Malone affirmed, smiling slightly. "Here I was thinking it was really a weird thing, but I see I fit right into our little group, not unusual at all."  
  
Roxton barked a laugh at this last and said, "Can you see Veronica now, Malone?"  
  
"Yes," Ned's eyes took on a far away expression. "She's in a great deal of pain and time is running short," he came back to himself, but his empathy and concern for Veronica was evident. "We have to hurry. You can travel to another plane?" he asked Marguerite.  
  
"Yes, it will be hard, but I can do it," she replied. "Where is Finn?"  
  
"In the future, where you went before," Malone replied.  
  
"New Amazonia," Roxton said flatly.  
  
"Oh, joy," Marguerite intoned.  
  
The whirling freshets of air swirled around them as they shifted their planes again. Margeurite and Roxton to the near future, Malone to the distant future. In their present, at the center, Veronica keened her sorrow and pain at her inability to stop the spirals from cascading in upon one another. The time was growing short and she didn't know how to stop the gathering storm of power, time, and light. She only knew she had to hold on as long as possible, to wait and hope that someone would come to help her. Her mind and body concentrated on holding the Trion steady and attempting to balance the impossible combinations that were being thrust upon the Plateau, but her heart and soul cried out for Malone.  
  
To Be Continued 


	6. The Unfathomed Retrospect

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 7/2002  
Part: 6 - The Unfathomed Retrospect  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HotS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox   
alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: Finn, Legacy, Trapped, HotS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.  
  
A/N: Many thanks to those who have given the nice feedback, especially abouttime, who appears to be my biggest fan ;) More whacking   
  
great applause for TLW BB - a nicer group of folks you'll never find.   
  
A/N2: Apologies to the writers of "The One" and any other multiverse theorists. I've given George the credit for that, too. The man is just   
amazing, isn't he?  
  
A/N3: More time travel. In fact, so much time travel that I might recommend some Dramamine if I were a real doctor and didn't play one on T.V. Fasten your seatbelts and warm up the DeLorean - we're going back to the future....  
  
***  
  
Who controls the past controls the future;  
Who controls the present controls the past.   
  
George Orwell (1903–1950)  
  
If you want a future, darling,  
Why don't you get a past?   
  
Cole Porter (1893–1964)  
  
***  
  
Given the choice between living in the future and the past, Finn definitely decided she would choose the past. The fact that she'd been transported back to the future that she'd been rescued from by Challenger and the others seemed supremely unfair to her. But then, she'd always found that life was profoundly unfair, especially to her, and she just had to deal with it.   
  
She ruthlessly suppressed a desire to actually cry. Her family had all died or been killed when she was young, but she still remembered them and the feeling of belonging she'd felt with them. Her new friends had made her feel that way; the treehouse had been her home, the first home she'd had in so long. She realized that, in such a short time, she'd come to depend on the others to make her life complete - that she really wanted to be with them. Dwelling on her loss wasn't going to help her though, and she'd be captured or dead if she didn't move her ass out of the way of that on-coming vehicle pretty fast.  
  
She waited until the last possible moment, then made a graceful roll to her left and sprang back up onto her feet, making a dead run for a stand of trees a short distance away. A shout from the occupants of the vehicle alerted her to the fact that they'd noticed her and would be following close behind. She dodged around a pile of large rocks randomly strewn across the slight decline. She knew her pursuer's kind, if she didn't actually know them; they'd never give up if they thought there was a chance of catching her. She'd have to kill them. Problem was, the trees weren't all that close, and if she shot her crossbow, she wasn't sure she'd have time to reload a bolt before the other guy got to her.   
  
Finn ran faster, her breath coming in gasps, the unmuffled roar of the engine throbbing in her ears. An edgy, sliding fear caused the sweat running down her back to feel cold. She didn't know when this was, but if Burke was still alive... She pulled her crossbow off her belt and tugged a bolt out of its loop, loading by feel as she pounded across the grassy field. Just as she turned to fire on the driver, a flash of brilliant light blinded her. Instinctively, she moved from her previous location to ensure no one could get a bead on her when their vision cleared.  
  
A scream of wrenching metal assaulted her eardrums, accompanied by shouts of dismay. Turning toward the sounds, Finn could see that in the instant that the blinding flash had engulfed them, the vehicle chasing her had come upon the boulders she had just gone around. The vehicle had apparently hit the rocks straight on, and owing to the slight incline, had became airborne. It had hit the ground and flipped onto it's top, rocking back and forth on its roll bar, hissing steam billowing from its now silent engine. Two figures lay very still on the ground, having been flung from the vehicle. One's neck lay at an impossible angle, and the other's mid-section was bisected by a piece torn off of the front fender. Finn stood bent over, on hand on her left knee, panting, unable to believe that her luck had turned.  
  
"If you think it's so easy, why don't you try it?" sounded a very familiar querulous voice.  
  
"I just remarked that when Malone transported us, we didn't appear three feet off the ground, that's all," came the exasperated reply.  
  
"Well, I'm kind of new at this sort of thing, in this lifetime anyway," groused Marguerite as she tried to get up. She fell back, involuntarily giving a low groan, looking rather pale.  
  
"What's wrong? Where are you hurt?" the kneeling Roxton instantly turned to face Marguerite, gently touching her shoulders with his hands, scanning her person.  
  
"It's just a headache," Marguerite replied softly, looking intently at Roxton. "Nothing to worry about, really," she assured him, putting one hand to his face.  
  
"If you're sure," Roxton sounded anxious, not convinced.  
  
"I am," Marguerite assured him, still in that very soft, gentle voice. The pair remained where they were, just looking at each other.  
  
Finn stared at the two of them for a moment, then said, "Uh, guys? Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"  
  
Roxton and Marguerite turned to Finn with surprise.   
  
"Well, that was easy," remarked Marguerite as Roxton stood up, bent over, and easily lifted her up onto her feet.   
  
Retaining hold of Marguerite's arms, he turned to Finn, smiling, "We're here to take you home."   
  
"Oh," Finn said, slightly non-plussed.  
  
Roxton brushed some dead grass from Marguerite's hair and beamed at her. Marguerite smiled beatifically back, until she noticed Finn   
  
staring at them, then frowned, "Don't sound so enthused," She made a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles out of her blouse. She'd   
  
already given up trying to button it as a bad bet; the buttonholes were ripped. "We've come a bloody long way to get you, you know."  
  
"So let's go already," Finn replied brightly, strapping her crossbow back on her belt. "I'm ready. And we don't wanna be around here when those guy's buddies come looking for them," she gestured to the now deceased occupants of the overturned vehicle.  
  
"Just hold on a moment," Roxton said, looking down at Marguerite in alarm. Finn marveled at how she appeared to sway, then collapsed rather gracefully into Roxton's arms.   
  
"What's wrong with her?" Finn crossed to where Roxton had gently laid Marguerite on the ground and was feeling her forehead, then checking her pulse.  
  
"I think bringing us here took a lot more out of her than she let on," Roxton answered grimly. "She feels cold to the touch," he bent down to listen at her chest, "and she's breathing very shallowly."  
  
"She could be in shock," Finn replied thoughtfully. "We should get her out of the open and someplace where she can lay down with her feet up."  
  
Roxton immediately picked Marguerite up with no apparent effort and said, "Where should we go?"  
  
"Maybe those trees?," Finn offered as they began moving.   
  
"Very good," came Roxton's clipped reply. "If I remember right, there's an outcropping of rocks that's fairly defensible nearby."  
  
Finn glanced over at Roxton and was struck by how grim he looked.   
  
"What's going on, Roxton?" Finn asked as they finally reached the edge of the forest. "Why was I transported here? And how in the world did Marguerite get you two get here? What's happened to Vee?"  
  
Roxton sighed, then replied, "I'm not entirely sure what's going on, Finn. It's been explained to me several times, but I don't think I understand a fraction of it. Let's just say that something's happened to the timeline, and all those bloody shifting planes of reality that Challenger is always going on about are smashing into one another, causing a whole hell of a lot of trouble."  
  
"That sounds bad...really bad," Finn observed.  
  
"According to Challenger, it *is* very bad. And, we have to find a way to stop it," he paused, shifted his hold on Marguerite slightly, then continued.   
  
"Where is Challenger?" Finn asked.  
  
"He's somewhere in the distant future," Roxton replied shaking his head.  
  
"Oookaaaay," Finn said in disbelief. "What's he doing there?"  
  
"Having tea with the Queen," shot back Roxton. "How the hell should I know?" He took a deep breath, then said apologetically, "Sorry, Finn. It's just that it's been rather a long day, and it keeps getting longer." He glanced down at the woman in his arms, worry clearly evident in his eyes. "The truth is, I don't know what Challenger is doing there. Malone said something about him finding out what he had done to resist the changes that coming to the Plateau had or would bring to his life."  
  
"Malone? You saw Malone - the reporter guy?" Finn was totally lost now.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Roxton sighed. "It's hard to keep it all straight. Why don't we get where we're going and I'll try to explain it to you. Maybe then, I'll understand it a little better myself."  
  
"Okay," Finn agreed, and they concentrated on reaching their destination. Finn wondered if she was ever going to get used to all the strange things that seemed to happen to her new friends. Probably not, she decided with a grin. At least they were never boring.  
  
***  
  
When Malone appeared for the second time, Challenger was not so surprised as startled. Sitting on the bed, he hadn't heard one word out of the sentient machine that was holding him hostage in the strange white room. The mute human had not returned the whole time, which he figured was at least two hours. His shoulder and legs hurt; all of his wounds, old and new, were complaining loudly of being cooped up, while other certain needs were becoming a bit more imperative also.  
  
"Thank God," he muttered to himself, and got up off the table. In an audible tone he called out, "Glad to see you back, Ned. Did you find who you were looking for?"   
  
Ned was extremely uncomfortable with the patently false smile on Challenger's face. It made his hackles rise, and in the last few months, he'd come to trust those instincts. "Sure, Professor," he replied with a cheery tone and face, but with a puzzled frown in his eyes. "I located everyone."  
  
"Good," Challenger nodded to the panel where the voice emanated from. "As you recall, my friend here told me that it's useless for us to rail against our fate, that they have taken into account every possibility."  
  
"But you think that they're wrong, don't you," Ned replied, not understanding where Challenger was going with this, but getting the impression that he had a plan. Well, it was about damn time *somebody* had a plan, he thought.  
  
"Well, I have an intriguing theory that there is more than one universe, an infinite multitude of universes, created by the branching of events - the choices that we make at critical junctures in our lives," Challenger expounded.  
  
"If you say so, Professor," Malone's head hurt, but manfully tried to keep up with the scientist.  
  
Challenger continued as if Malone had not said a word, warming to his theme, "If one ascribes to this theory, then it would follow that it would be possible to have more than one version of yourself and any other being." Excited, he began pacing back and forth in the small room. "What this sentient machine has told me has confirmed to me the validity of my theory!"  
  
"More than one version of yourself...Didn't you mention that before?" Malone asked.  
  
"Yes!" Challenger pointed at Malone as if he were a star pupil that had made his instructor proud. "I told them that they have the wrong George Challenger. That I cannot be the one that will stop the tide of events that they are trying to forestall."  
  
"Why aren't you the one?" Malone was curious.  
  
"Because you came to me here," Challenger replied with a genuine smile this time. "You came, and they were not expecting you. They underestimated something, which is precisely what their downfall will be - humanity."  
  
"I don't get what you mean, as usual," grinned Malone.  
  
"In one word, Ned, love," Challenger said gently. "The need for you to help me, your friend, regardless of the danger to yourself. You see," he walked over to the young man. "It will *always* be the wrong George Challenger, because you will *always* be willing to help me. No matter which of us they take, the others will do the same."  
  
"You mean, that the characteristics of each version of ourselves are the same?" Malone asked.  
  
"Well, not identical, although they could be, I suppose" Challenger allowed. "But, the fundamentals, they would be the same. That which makes us uniquely ourselves, the very essence of who we are, permeates all of our beings. The spark of life..."  
  
"The soul," finished Malone softly.  
  
"If you will," Challenger smiled. "I must have talked to that bloody contraption for two hours with no answer. Still re-running its calculations," he said with satisfaction.  
  
"How could it calculate it in the first place?" Malone wanted to know. "I mean, if there's an infinite number of versions of you, how could it possibly be able to..."  
  
"There are questions to which even I have no answers, Ned," Challenger moved back to the reporter. "But, I do know something more important."  
  
"What is that?" Malone was curious at the almost reverential tone the scientist's voice had taken.   
  
"I know that no matter what I do, build or theorize, or fail in doing so, means almost nothing in the long run," Challenger replied steadily. "I feared the loss of my dignity, ridicule of my work, and failure to achieve any fame because of being stranded on the Plateau. I railed against my fate, always thinking that if I truly were the genius that I claimed to be, I would be able to find a way off of the Plateau."  
  
"And, now?" Malone prompted.  
  
"Now, my dear friend," Challenger put his arm around Ned's shoulders, and they walked a bit then stopped. Picking up the butterfly's cage, Challenger held it up and looked at it with wonder. "Now, I realize what I knew all along. True success isn't measured by the postulation of theories, the making of things, or even fame. It's by the love of family and friends. Whether I ever get of this bloody Plateau isn't the point. Knowing what's important is. It's not very scientific," he laughed wholeheartedly. "But, it's the God's truth and these blighters will never get it."  
  
Ned laughed aloud at the joy in Challenger's face. "A regular reformed Scrooge," he grinned, taking Challenger's other hand.  
  
"God bless us, everyone, Ned," Challenger nodded solemnly, then winked and squeezed the younger man's hand as they disappeared into the plane to take them to the center and Veronica.  
  
***  
  
Roxton gently placed Marguerite on the ground, holding her head in his lap, directing Finn to take a look around. He felt Marguerite's forehead and was disturbed to find her still chilled, but relieved to hear that her breathing appeared to be easier. Stroking her hair, he murmured, "You're giving me grey hair, my dear. You've got to wake up."  
  
"You already had grey hair," mumbled Marguerite crossly. "Don't blame me."  
  
"Oh, but you're responsible for most of it," Roxton retorted in a loving tone.   
  
"Nice to see that I'm appreciated," she replied opening her eyes finally.  
  
"You are at that, love," he smiled gently. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like I've gone three rounds with a Trog, and lost," she replied with a wince. Her head was killing her.  
  
"Got to remember to keep your left up," Roxton advised her, stroking her hair back in rhythmic strokes.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind" Marguerite said acerbically, but her eyes gave an entirely different message.  
  
At this point, Finn appeared and said, "Everything looks quiet." She stopped at looked at the pair on the ground. "What's with you two? I mean, every time I see you, you're making eyes at each other. Don't you argue any more?"  
  
Roxton and Marguerite just looked at each other and laughed. Finn shook her head, then grinned.  
  
"Are you feeling any better, Marguerite?" Finn asked as she crouched down by the other woman.  
  
"A little, thank you," Marguerite replied, intrigued by the pleasant emotions engendered by this exchange.  
  
"What do we do now?" Finn asked of no one in particular.  
  
"I think Marguerite should rest," Roxton stated firmly. "Then, we can decide what we do next."  
  
"You were gonna tell me what's going on," Finn prompted.  
  
"Do you have a few years?" Marguerite said archly.  
  
"Quiet," ordered Roxton. Marguerite glared, but said nothing.   
  
"How did you get here?" Finn asked.  
  
"Those shifting planes of reality? Turns out, they can be navigated, if you know how," Roxton said shaking his head. "I ended up sometime a few hundred years before my time on the Plateau. There were these Spanish Conquistadors and they took me prisoner. They were going to kill me, when out of the blue, Malone appears. He fast talked the soldiers, and then we just disappear together. We reappear, and we're in England."  
  
"England?" Finn was puzzled.  
  
"Yes," Roxton replied. "We ended up at my home, sometime before I graduated from University. I met my brother William." He paused, well aware of Marguerite tensing up. "We talked, and I came to understand the changes in my life that prompted me to come to the Plateau, the ones that I had been fighting." He looked down at Marguerite. "Challenger's theory is that we are causing the imbalance in the planes of reality because we are all fighting those changes."  
  
"Our destinies," echoed Marguerite relaxing at Roxton's apparent peace with his brother's memory. "We have to embrace who we are to retrieve order."  
  
"Okay," Finn said. "But, how do we know what we're fighting. I mean, I haven't been fighting anything. Unless you count re-embodied evil spirits, raptors, Trogs..."  
  
"Why do you think you're here?" Roxton suddenly asked.  
  
"I dunno," Finn replied uneasily. "I don't like it, whatever the reason."  
  
"Do you have unfinished business, perhaps?" asked Marguerite quietly.  
  
"What do you mean?" Finn was puzzled.  
  
"What she means is, perhaps there's something about leaving this timeline that bothers you," Roxton explained. "I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was transported to the time of the Conquistadors. Then, I realized, it had to do with my being very uncomfortable with my ancestor's role in the conquest of the New World."   
  
"Aha," Marguerite crowed in triumph. "I told you, a pirate."  
  
"Marguerite was taken by the Druids, who had killed her centuries ago, because it she had unfinished business with them," Roxton continued with a pointed look at Marguerite. "Perhaps there's something you can think of?"  
  
"Nah," Finn shook her head. "I don't..." she stopped and looked puzzled. "Kayle," she whispered hollowly. "He was there during the bad time. When I was just a kid. I feel like I should have been able to stop him, in *your* time." She looked at them, guilt in her eyes.  
  
Marguerite attempted to sit up, Roxton made chiding sounds, but helped her so she was sitting with her back to his chest, propping her up.   
  
"You feel guilty that you didn't stop him, don't you?"  
  
"So what if I do?" Finn said almost petulantly.   
  
"I know something about guilt, and about wondering what you could have done differently," Marguerite said softly. "So does John. Don't let it eat you up, because if you let it grow, it *will*."  
  
Finn looked at Marguerite and John, her face a study of confused pain. "I think I started this whole mess," she began, self-loathing apparent in her tone. "If I hadn't of wanted to get out of this dump, I wouldn't have upset the balance of Challenger's transport device. Then, when I had a chance to redeem myself by getting the monster that killed my world, I screwed that up, too."  
  
"No," Roxton shook his head. "You're the reason we know who Kayle is. If you hadn't come back with us, we would have been lost in that void forever. You were meant to come back with us; I know it, Finn."  
  
"But, I haven't been able to do anything!" she almost wailed. "I don't even do the garden anymore since Veronica came back. What is it that I'm supposed to do here, there...whatever," she cried exasperated.  
  
"We're still trying to figure out just what it is exactly that Marguerite does," Roxton gently teased. "You don't have to have a specific job description. Just know that your needed and wanted."  
  
"Really?" Finn arched her eyebrows and looked at Marguerite. "What do you say to that?"  
  
"I say that I serve a great purpose on the Plateau," Marguerite said importantly. "I keep Lord Roxton's ego in check," she glared at Roxton, but it didn't go too well with the twinkle in her eyes. "As for you," she softened her tone. "You serve a purpose by being with us. You are our friend and you help us any way that you can. You don't have to be anything more than that Finn. Trust me, I've been less, and they didn't kick me out of the Treehouse." She smiled at the younger woman, who smiled back.  
  
"Well," Roxton said presently. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think you may be right," Finn said thoughtfully. "It's like I wished so hard for a place to belong, a family to be part of again, and it came true." She looked at the couple in front of her. "Thank you."  
  
"You entirely welcome, I'm sure," Roxton replied easily, gently stroking Marguerite's shoulders when she tensed up again at Finn's words.  
  
"You're welcome," whispered Marguerite, realizing that this young woman considered her family. It was a very nice thought.   
  
"So," remarked Finn after a few moments. "How do we get home now?"  
  
"Well, Marguerite?" Roxton queried. "Are you up to taking us back to the center?"  
  
"Yes," Marguerite replied. "More than ready to leave this place." Roxton and Finn assisted her standing up. She took hold of a hand of each of them and closed her eyes. Reaching down inside for the power that she'd so recently found, she dug deep into it. The pain she had felt previously was mild compared to this. It would take all she had to do this, she realized. Opening her eyes, she said to Roxton, "I love you." His reply was lost in the shimmer, but she knew what it was anyway.  
  
To Be Continued 


	7. Their Finest Hour

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 7/2002  
Part: 7 - Their Finest Hour  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HotS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox   
alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: The Secret, Tapestry, Legacy, Trapped, HotS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.  
  
A/N: Thank you for all the great feedback. It has been brought to my attention that I seem to write a lot of cliffhangers. I agree... ;)   
  
A/N2: If you will accept my version of time dilation with regard to quantum singularities as workable, then you will not get a headache like Malone trying to figure this stuff out. The real theory is fascinating, but, as usual, I've corrupted it to make my story work. I'm expecting to be served cease and desist papers from the National Academy of Sciences any day now :D  
  
***  
  
The birth of the new constitutes a crisis, and its mastery calls for a crude and simple cast of mind—the mind of a fighter—in which the virtues of tribal cohesion and fierceness and infantile credulity and malleability are paramount. Thus every new beginning recapitulates in some degree man's first beginning.   
  
Eric Hoffer (1902–1983)  
  
There can't be a crisis.... My schedule is already full.   
  
Henry Kissinger (b. 1923)  
  
***  
  
Something was off, Malone decided. It was usually an instantaneous and painless shift from one reality to the next. He likened it to stepping across a threshold, accompanied by the brilliant light of course, but it hadn't ever hurt. Until now, that was. The pain was exquisite, blindingly intense and debilitating. He was fast losing consciousness, and his link to Challenger was fading. Abruptly, he abandoned his course to the center and Veronica, and he headed toward the nearest open plane he could sense. It was there, glowing at him, an easy step away. He tried to go through, but felt resistance. Then, as he was thinking about what to do, the light seemed to reach out and engulf Challenger. Malone could feel the scientist being pulled from him. Desperately, he tried to hold on, but the force was too strong. Challenger disappeared and the threshold slipped shut.   
  
The whirl of feeling, sight, and sound that encompassed the passages to the planes intensified even more. Malone tried to center himself on Challenger, but could not feel him at all. He then tried to find Veronica. There, just a subtle presence, but he could feel her. Hanging on to awareness by a thread, he pushed himself toward her. The flash of light as he passed the threshold felt like immolation. He was conscious of nothing more as he slid to the floor of the tree house some three meters from Veronica's feet, moments after Finn's screams had faded out.  
  
***  
  
George Challenger awoke to find himself facedown, his mouth full of dirt, head throbbing like he'd been on a three-day bender. He sat up gingerly and rubbed the back of his neck, gently rotating his head. Getting too bloody old for this business, he mused. He looked up at saw that it was a clear day, wherever and whenever he was.  
  
"Malone?" he called out, turning to look for the younger man. At the lack of response he frowned, gathered himself mentally, then physically, and stood up, wincing as he did. He looked about himself and then groaned in dismay. A short distance up a grassy incline next to where he stood, there was a sign. It read "New Amazonia 10KM".  
  
***  
  
The light was *wrong*, and the pain was overwhelming. Marguerite knew she had to find a doorway, any doorway. It was impossible for her to go on. It was as if there was a wall between her and the center, blocking the way to Veronica. She felt angry at her inability to bypass it, and she was desperately afraid that she would lose Roxton and Finn. She could still feel them next to her, but the contact was fuzzy and wavering. Frantic now, she searched for a doorway. Finally, she saw a dim light. Pushing with her all her being, she took the threesome toward the glow. It grew stronger, until, with a final lunge, it swallowed them.   
  
Relief permeated Marguerite's body and mind, and she finally was free of the intense pain she had been feeling since she transported Roxton and her to find Finn. Somehow, something had come together correctly, she felt. She noticed that she was kneeling, and looked about her. Marguerite rubbed her forehead to relieve some residual tension, but on the whole felt a great deal better then just a little while ago. She hoped she hadn't done any harm to Roxton and Finn. She got up to examine them, worry etching a frown on her brow. Roxton was to her left, lying on the grass. Finn was to her right, similarly prone. Both appeared so very still.   
  
***  
  
The noise was deafening. The light was blinding. The very air shimmered and seemed thick, making breathing difficult. A sense of urgency permeated the atmosphere, like you could feel the pulse of the universe quickening. It was, Malone thought wonderingly, as if he was at the very heart of the universe, where all energies passed. Shaking his head a bit, he tried to orient himself. Pushing off of the floor, his gasp of wonder was lost in the cacophony of sounds. There was Veronica - magnificent in her power, compelling in her terror, and crowning in her beauty. Struck for a moment, he gazed at the woman he had thought so much of on his journey, the woman he still loved with all his heart.   
  
He slowly made his way to where Veronica stood. Very aware of the power exchange going on between the confluence of planes and what she was holding in her hand, he moved so that he was directly in her field of vision, but avoiding the effulgence.   
  
"Veronica!" he yelled, holding up one arm in a futile attempt to block some of the glare.  
  
Veronica heard someone call her name, but couldn't see over the brilliance of the pulsating energy that kept her frozen in place.  
  
"Veronica!" Ned screamed as loudly as he could, pushing dangerously close to the powerful beams of light.  
  
"Ned?" Veronica mouthed in absolute surprise. The howl of the wind and the crash of intersecting bolts of energy intensified. The pain Veronica was feeling suddenly doubled, and she screamed uncontrollably.  
  
***  
  
As walking along the road seemed to be out of the question, Challenger headed for the closest stand of trees. By his reckoning, this would be the way to where the tree house was, or had been, he corrected himself. He didn't question why he should head in the direction of a structure that hadn't been in existence for many years. It just *felt* like the thing to do, which by his reckoning was just a scary thing.   
  
Generally, following hunches was not something he dabbled in. He directed his thoughts elsewhere. How in the name of science had he ended up back here? More importantly, where was Ned? Challenger was concerned. This was all wrong. They should have been drawn to Veronica, as she was at the nexus of all. Instead, he ended up here, many years and who knew what realities away from *his* Veronica.   
  
God knew where Ned had ended up. "How the bloody hell am I to get home," muttered George to himself as he trudged down an incline, dodging some large boulders and scraps  
of metal that littered the hillside.  
  
An idea slipped into his head as he reached the tree line. A long shot to be sure, but it sure seemed that those were all that they were playing these days. He altered direction slightly, and disappeared into the forest.  
  
***  
  
"John, wake up, please," Marguerite's voice held a tremor as she gently shook his shoulders, yet again, with no response, yet again. "John," she called more sharply. That was it. She couldn't take it any more. "Roxton!" she screeched in her *I'm in trouble, get you ass over here* voice.  
  
"What? Marguerite, where are you?" Roxton yelled as he came awake and sprang up almost simultaneously. He looked around frantically, panting with an adrenaline rush.   
  
"That's much better," approved Marguerite, looking up at Roxton, her arms folded.  
  
"Are you all right?" Roxton was puzzled. She didn't look anything except smugly irritating.  
  
"I'm fine now," replied Marguerite archly. Meet his eyes, she ordered herself sternly. You can do this.  
  
"Then, what the bloody hell were you doing screaming your head off?" bellowed Roxton, instantly furious with her. "I thought you were dying, you were carrying on so."  
  
"Well, I thought you were dead!" she screamed back, all thoughts of holding these emotions inside blown to smithereens. "I couldn't get you to wake up. I've been sitting here for over an hour. Neither one of you would wake up. You didn't have a pulse, no breathing, you didn't move..." her voice trailed off on a choked sound as she turned away from him.  
  
"Marguerite?" Roxton was instantly contrite. He should have known. She always reacted this way when she was very afraid for someone else. She retreated back into the brittle shell of disdain and arch humour that irritated everyone so. Irritated them so that they would never see the anguish in her and the sorrow when something happened to someone she cared about, something she couldn't fix.  
  
She was crying. Absolutely unacceptable, she tried to tell herself. It would gain nothing, and she would look like the veriest fool in front of the man whose opinion of her mattered the most of anyone she'd ever known. Pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes, she drew a sobbing breath and tried to suppress the aching shudders wracking her slight frame. Warm arms came about her and tugged her into a familiar embrace.   
  
"It's all right, Marguerite," he murmured gently, smoothing her hair with one hand while carefully holding her close with the other. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"You did," she accused in a tear-laden voice. "You wouldn't wake up. I thought you'd gone on, just left your body here. I thought I'd failed you yet again," she finished brokenly.  
  
"Shhhh, a gràdh," he tucked her into his shoulder, gently easing her down to the ground and pulling her into his lap. "You've never failed me yet." Her sorrow was great, layer upon layer of feelings suppressed, pushing away all the good as she avoided the bad. Oh, how he knew how she felt. It had always drawn him to her, even as she soared with her power over others, he could see the pain within. But now, now he could help her. His pride and disdain had melted beneath the times of loneliness and anguish over *his* failings. Together they would heal.  
  
"We're not at the tree house," she finally said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I couldn't get there."  
  
"Do you know why?" Roxton asked.  
  
"Something was blocking the way. It was like I could see where we needed to go, but something kept me from taking us there," Marguerite replied with frustration.  
  
Roxton's reply was lost when Finn began to groan. They both turned to look at her as she sat up and rubbed her head.  
  
"What a dream," she mumbled, now knitting her brow. "What happened?"  
  
"You were out cold," Roxton replied.  
  
"Almost literally," Marguerite added, lifting her head from Roxton's shoulder, but not moving from his lap.  
  
"How long?" Finn wrinkled her nose and shook her head as if to clear it.  
  
"About an hour," Marguerite spoke softly.  
  
"Geez," Finn said. "No wonder I had such a weird dream. Didn't sleep very well," she jumped up and stretched.   
  
Marguerite just looked at Roxton and shook her head. The child was irrepressible.  
  
"We have other news," Roxton began.  
  
"Son of a bitch!" Finn exploded as she stared off into the distance. "I just can't believe it," she stood shaking her head.  
  
"What now?" Marguerite asked with a resigned air.  
  
"Look," Finn said simply, hopelessly.  
  
Roxton and Marguerite stood up, turned around, and followed the line of Finn's outstretched hand.  
  
"Oh, damn," intoned Marguerite as she took in the familiar skyline of New Amazonia rising above the trees and water. Roxton was silent as they each contemplated what this meant.  
  
***  
  
Veronica stared at Ned, who was partially visible through the ever-shifting rays of energy that pulsated through the Trion that burned yet did not damage her hand. He had come. She had begged the universe for him, and he was here. Her heart was in her eyes, begging him to come to her, help her, even as her body was tormented by the buffeting energy that sought to implode upon itself.  
  
"I can't make it stop, Ned," she cried. "I can't find the balance."  
  
"Yes, you can, Veronica," Ned's voice suddenly slid under the high intensity discord. He felt himself shift slightly and he walked toward Veronica. She was holding the spirals as they collapsed, one upon another. Such power, such weight, such torment. "You have the balance; you are the center," he assured her. He felt the oneness of it all. The time and space that slid past contained existences he had never nor could ever of imagined, and he paid no attention to them. His entire being was focused on the woman in front of him.   
  
"It's all falling in, Ned," Veronica said breathlessly. "I can't hold them up."  
  
"You don't have to hold them up, Veronica," Ned replied smiling with wonder. He finally understood. The butterfly's wings didn't have to hold up the universe, and neither did Veronica. "Let go," he said softly. "Let them through. You are the center."  
  
"What?" Veronica was completely astonished. "No, I can't," she shook her head in panic. "I can't let go. Something bad will happen, I know it!" she cried.  
  
"Do you trust me?" Ned stood directly in front of her, his own power emanation deflecting the spirals around him as they raced to the Trion.  
  
"Yes," Veronica responded breathlessly.   
  
"Then you have to let go. The change begins here, where it ends," Ned said, raising a hand to gently cup her jaw, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Veronica stared silently at him, lost in his blue eyes full of earnest and complete surety.  
  
***  
  
Challenger increased his pace through the jungle, not needing to take his bearings. He had been here many times, in different times; he could find his way blindfolded. He had been a fool not to realize this before. The whole thing amazed and awed him. The greatest of events, and he was at the focal point, or he would be soon. Suddenly, he stopped.  
  
"Oh, this will never do," he shook his head definitively. "We must all be together or it will not work at all." He spun around and headed back in the direction he had just come. "I certainly hope they hurry," he muttered as he began to make calculations. Time was infinitely running out for them.   
  
***  
  
"We can't stay here," Finn affirmed. "We'll be captured in less than a day. This area is on a major sweep pattern."  
  
"Where should we go?" Roxton asked. "To the city?"  
  
"No," Marguerite said suddenly. "I know where we have to go." She took a deep breath and said, " I think we need to go back to the cave."  
  
"Which cave?" Finn wanted to know.  
  
"Challenger's cave," Marguerite answered.   
  
Roxton looked at her, puzzled for a moment, then smiled as the light dawned, "It's all about the balance."  
  
"OK," Finn said. "You guys have this personal shorthand thing going on, and it's really cute and all, but I still don't get it."  
  
"Challenger's tele-transporting device," Marguerite explained as they started walking as quickly as they could.  
  
"But, it was destroyed when we went back to your...time..." Finns voice slowed as she figured it out. "But," she nodded with a smile, "it's not destroyed *now*."  
  
"Exactly," Roxton agreed.  
  
"We need to hurry," said Marguerite. "It's starting, the end is starting." They picked up the pace until they were practically running.  
  
***  
  
"I'm afraid, Ned," Veronica said sadly. "I don't think I'm the right person for this."  
  
"Yes, you are," Ned assured her. "You're here, where you should be. All of this," he gestured, "comes to you because you are the center."  
  
"How do you know this?" she asked him with wonder.   
  
"I see things now," he replied. "Part of my journey has been learning how to use the gifts given to me during my time in the spirit world."  
  
"What do you see when you look at me?" Veronica needed to know. Her body was at the end of its strength; she didn't know how she kept   
  
standing, but she couldn't stop looking at Ned.  
  
"I see you, Veronica," Ned said simple. "Just you."  
  
"That can't be all...that can't be enough," she said in despair.  
  
"Of course it's enough," he brought his other hand up and caressed her other cheek. "It's always been. You just never let yourself believe it.   
  
All this time, you fought, survived, thrived, helped others, and save my life countless times," he looked wonderingly at her. "How could you not think that you're all that has to be? You have always been everything to me, ever since the day I met you. It just took me so long to understand it," he finished in a whisper and heedless of the burning power she held up in one hand, he pulled her into a kiss.  
  
The energies swirling, spiraling down intensified as they flowed toward the center, but Veronica didn't feel any more pain. All she could feel was Ned holding her face, kissing her, bathing her heart and soul in the warmth of his love. She began to believe.  
  
***  
  
Challenger paced back and forth on the path where it branched. They were taking too much time. He was worried that if he went to look for them, he'd take the wrong branch and miss them. Just then, he heard noises. Jumping off the path, he hid behind a large tree trunk. There on the path passed Roxton, Marguerite, Finn and himself. Oh, right on schedule, damnit, he swore silently. Where the hell were they?   
  
More noises and passing forms as their pursuers hurried after them. Coming back to the path, Challenger craned his neck, looking for *his* Roxton, Marguerite, and Finn.   
  
He took out his pocket watch and stared at it, laughing at himself. "Can't help me here, my friend," he nodded sagely. "They've gone and stopped the hands of time after all."  
  
"Talking to a your watch, George? Really," Roxton smirked.  
  
Challenger gave Roxton a pained look, and then said, "There's no time to lose. We must get to the cave now." He started off at a fast clip down the path toward the cave.  
  
"We've got that part, George," Marguerite replied dryly. "We've practically run the whole way here."  
  
"Well, then, no point in slowing down now," nodded Roxton as he caught Marguerite's arm and hurried her down the path. She wrinkled her nose at him, but kept up all the same.  
  
"What happens when we get to the cave?" Finn was holding up the rear, hard on Roxton and Marguerite's heels.  
  
"We wait," Challenger replied, slightly breathless.  
  
"Wait?" Marguerite cried. "You're making us double-time to this bloody cave, just to *wait*?"  
  
"We wait for ourselves to go into the cave," Challenger grinned. "We wait until they activate the transport device, and then..."  
  
"We hitch a ride," Marguerite beamed at Challenger.  
  
"But, can the device handle transporting four more people, George? It melted down the last time we used it," Roxton noted.  
  
"That's just it," Challenger felt the stitch in his side expand to make his whole chest feel aflame. "This is exactly what caused the overload in the device the first time, or this time, or what have you," his voice rang with the triumph of understanding a puzzle that had plagued him ever since they had returned from the future.  
  
"You did say that the future could change the past," Roxton said, wiping sweat from his brow as they loped along.  
  
"No, he said that the present could change the future," Finn contradicted.  
  
"The past is what changes the present and the future," Marguerite said as firmly as someone who was panting could.  
  
"You're all right," Challenger grinned at the blank looks on their faces. He started to go into a the explanation he had developed for Malone, then decided on the whole, he'd rather breathe. "Just trust me on this, all right?" he finally got out. "We need to be in the transport field of my device right after ourselves go in."  
  
The others silently agreed. As they approached the site of the cave, gunshots rang out.  
  
"Now is the time," Challenger said as they moved toward the cave.  
  
"Now is always the time," Marguerite said solemnly and Roxton squeezed her hand as they entered the cave.  
  
  
To be Continued 


	8. We Happy Few

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 8/2002  
Part: 8 - We Happy Few  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HotS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: Tapestry, Finn, HotS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.  
  
***  
  
A/N: Thank you for bearing with my glacial writing speed and all the encouragement to continue. It has been a great joy writing this story.  
  
A/N2: I have taken great liberties regarding the properties of Iridium in order to further my story. It is an actual element, very rare and valuable, and is a member of the Platinum Metals Group. As a point of interest, I did a little digging about the value of Iridium during WWI. If the box seen in 'Tapestry' contained 100 bars at 12 Troy ounces each, its value would have been 37,815 in 1917 British Pounds!   
  
To put it in perspective that would be the equivalent of 1,021,005 British Pounds at today's valuation, or $1,560,866 US ! It started me thinking just what *was* Challenger going to do with that much Iridium, and what the devil was the British Government doing giving him something of that much value during wartime? For that matter, where did they get it? Sounds like a whole 'nother fic to me ;)  
  
***  
  
  
Say, shall my little bark attendant sail,  
Pursue the triumph and partake the gale?   
  
Alexander Pope (1688–1744)   
  
  
And now for something completely different.   
  
John Cleese, Monty Python's Flying Circus (1969 -1974)  
  
***  
  
"The timing will be critical," Challenger stated in a whisper, as they made their way through the entrance of the cave to an alcove near the directional controls. "We must enter the transport field at the same time as Finn."  
  
"Won't we see ourselves, and couldn't that be a problem?" Roxton asked softly, peering around the wall of rock to see their earlier selves going to their circles on the cave floor.  
  
"I don't believe so," Challenger replied. "The disassociation from the radiant waves in addition to the temporal flux should render their vision incapable of registering our current selves; additionally, Finn will be contraposing our position."  
  
"In other words, they'll be blinded by the light," Marguerite said with asperity. "And Finn will be facing away from us."  
  
"That's what I said," Challenger noted blinking. Finn and Marguerite shrugged and shook their heads as they looked at each other. Roxton refrained from saying anything, but a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Just then, the light began to shine intensely and waves surrounded the three explorers. Finn came running in, and Challenger said, "Now!" Hand in hand, they sprang after Finn and hurled themselves into the painfully bright radiance.  
  
It was a sensation of falling coupled with the uplift of the imagined power of flight, seasoned with the dizzying sensation of circling endlessly, while remaining yet stationary. The journey took days, weeks, years, nanoseconds, all time, no time at all. It was, and then it wasn't.   
  
A brilliant yellow-white luminescence bathed the treehouse as the four travelers became aware of their surroundings. There, standing in the center of the main room was Veronica, holding up one hand toward which the light and power seemed to be rushing. However, she was paying no attention to the tumultuous influx of energies, because all her attention was taken up with kissing Ned Malone. The four just stood there for a moment, transfixed by the sight, each smiling.   
  
The whirl of energies cycled faster and faster, the sounds progressed to white noise, then passed from the range registered by human ears. Atmospheric pressure fluctuated wildly, and the very air shimmered with what could only be described as a liquid solidity. At last, the kiss ended, and Ned pulled back from Veronica a bit, smiling at her. The energies rushed around the two of them, seeking the Trion in endless waves of spirals, but the two only just kept looking at each other.  
  
"Glad to see that you made it," Ned finally called out to them, his eyes still focused intently on Veronica.  
  
"We took the scenic route," Marguerite said airily. "I see you've been keeping yourselves occupied," she continued in a fond voice that, had she realized how she sounded, would have modified instantly.  
  
"It's time," Ned turned to them.  
  
"Yes, it is," Marguerite agreed, reaching one hand out for Roxton's and grasping it firmly enough to have him looking at her with concern.  
  
"You know what comes next," Challenger confirmed.  
  
"Yes," Marguerite and Ned answered together.  
  
"Well, I'm kinda lost," Finn interjected.  
  
"I'd have to agree with Finn," Roxton added with an apologetic air, glancing at Marguerite, who had an intense look on her face.  
  
"Is Vee all right?" Finn continued, looking at Veronica, who had gone back to concentrating on holding the Trion steady, waiting for the others.  
  
"She will be," Ned replied. "When we help her reconnect the circle. She must direct the Trion to realign the conflux of the planes."  
  
"To be unbroken from beginning to end to beginning," murmured Marguerite. "She is the circle; we are the circle."  
  
"All the planes of reality are forming here," Challenger said excitedly. " I would postulate that the Plateau normally acts as a gateway to and conduit for the shifting planes, and would have a normal ebb and flow of energies, but something has happened to concentrate the planes here where Veronica is holding the Trion. The Iridium, which is an excellent conductor and has an extremely dense mass, is acting as a nexus, and the very large mass and gravitational fields of the planes is affecting the phase shifts, causing the quantum singularity to collapse upon itself because of the instability. What upset the flow of the phase shifts is what I wonder about. It could have been my tele-transporter," he nodded ruefully.  
  
"No, it was my storm," Marguerite corrected.  
  
"Uh-uh, had to be my interference with your transport," Finn put in.  
  
"It was the butterfly," Ned held up a hand, preventing Roxton from claiming fault. Into the silence, Malone continued, "It really doesn't matter, does it? We have to restore the balance, and we need to do it now." The strength of purpose and certainty that infused his bearing was not lost on Roxton, Marguerite, Challenger, and Finn. They saw in Ned what Veronica had just been discovering - he indeed did know what to do and how to do it. As he had told Veronica, the answer was there, he had just not known how to phrase the question.  
  
"Speaking of butterflies, I don't see the cage that I had," muttered Challenger, looking about, but not finding the unusual specimen.  
  
"It served its purpose," Ned told Challenger. "Now we have to serve ours."  
  
"We must come together," Marguerite said with conviction. "In a circle with Veronica. Malone knows; he is the bard - he will tell us."   
  
Ned nodded in agreement and gestured to Roxton, "You stand here next to Veronica." Roxton kissed Marguerite's hand and moved over by Veronica. He smiled at her and she smiled tremulously back. The pain was almost unbearable.  
  
"Take her hand, Roxton," Ned directed. "You are a warrior, but you also have a loving heart that you share with everyone. You are the strength of the body and the greater strength of love." Roxton grasped Veronica's free hand and felt the jolt and the power swept through him, then he could feel his self melding with Veronica, giving his strength to her. She sighed, knowing now she could hold on.  
  
"Next is Finn," Ned said. Finn looked up at him expectantly as she moved near Roxton. "You have a sense of wonder and the fearlessness of youth," he smiled at her. "You also want belonging and togetherness with everyone. You are family." Finn took Roxton's hand and likewise felt the power. She didn't notice the tears of joy falling down her cheeks as she focused on the supreme sense of welcome and comfort that seemed to emanate from herself and engulfed Roxton and Veronica.  
  
"Challenger," called Malone. Challenger eagerly moved next to Finn, curving the circle around toward Veronica. "You possess curiosity and the desire of understanding, tempered by the experience of age and learning. You are the mind and body working together." As he took Finn's hand, Challenger felt gladness overcome him, as he was finally able to share what he knew with the others.  
  
"Marguerite," he finally called. She move forward and to take Challenger's free hand. "You have the power and the fire within you, yet you love and appreciate all that is with such intensity. You are the soul," Ned's voice slid into a whisper and he watched the surge of energy pulse through his friends as Marguerite touched Challenger's hand.  
  
Marguerite looked at Malone, her eyes gentle. "You are a watcher and a chronicler. You are also the connection, the link between the Protector and the circle," she intoned. "All that she is, the center, the beginning and the end of the circle, is through the strength of your conviction." She held out her hand and Malone took it, feeling the power directly. They looked at each other, realizing the magnitude of what was to come next.  
  
"You can do it, Ned," Marguerite said at length. "You are the only one who can. Finish the circle. Let Veronica do her job." She looked over at Roxton, who had an expression that mixed pride with love and amazement in equal parts. She smiled at him, and he returned the look.   
  
The atmosphere in the treehouse thickened again, as if to acknowledge that great power had gathered and was vying for control of the flow of the planes. Great noises began again, echoing as if from far away, but they were deep sounds, pulsating heavily, pushing at the very essence of their reality, causing distortions in their perceptions and loss of feeling in their selves.  
  
"The last of the planes are folding in upon themselves," Challenger cried. "The singularity is collapsing. You must act now, child!" he directed Veronica.  
  
"I love you, Veronica," Ned shouted as he grabbed her upraised hand, placing his palm firmly over the Trion and bringing their clasped hands down at their sides, completing the circle.  
  
In the end, it was so simple, Veronica thought. All the worry, pain, and fear were reduced to meaningless memory. She saw. They all saw. It was them, all of them. So many that there was no means for their minds to comprehend; they had to trust their hearts and souls to acknowledge and deal with them. Each Veronica felt every Roxtons' strength of body and heart, all of the Finns' joy of togetherness, the multitudes of Challengers' understanding, the deep and abiding well of awareness and the meaning of being from the Marguerites, and the love and connection from all the Malones. She let go, and the rush stopped. The balance was achieved, the pain gone.  
  
The gravitational shifts ceased, having finished their tasks. The sounds had stopped. The light was all but gone, save at the very center.   
  
There had been, but now there wasn't.   
  
The conflux of the realities was almost complete; each was all the others, save the tiniest of thoughts that flowed through their minds. The thoughts that they wanted *their* time, *their* chance to be and do what was theirs to come - past, present, or future. They all wanted the chance to make the next choice. And so, they all chose. Being who they were, they all chose differently. The flowing togetherness that had held them so smoothly fractured, breaking off identical pieces that spiraled away in all directions and dimensions from the center. The flooding expansion exploded with such force that they all lost awareness.  
  
The yellow-white light that had bathed the treehouse gradually faded. The preternatural silence of the Plateau exploded in a raucous jumble. The six people who had stood at the edge of eternity holding hands gradually came to and noticed themselves and their surroundings.  
  
After a pause of a few seconds, they all broke ranks and ran to each other, hugging, crying, laughing, living.  
  
The end of the universe hadn't come after all.  
  
To Be Continued 


	9. Epilogue - A Work Of Time

Title: Concourse   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 8/2002  
Part: 9 - Epilogue - A Work Of Time  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, N/V  
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi  
Summary: Starts where HotS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn.  
Spoilers: Out of Time, HotS  
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)   
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com  
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4  
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.  
  
***  
  
A/N: Well, it's done, and I wonder at it all ;) Thank you for all your patience and wonderful feedback!  
  
A/N2: It wouldn't be my introduction without at least two author's notes, doncha think? A question was asked about a term I used in part 7. * A gràdh* is Gaelic for 'my heart', which sums up Roxton and Marguerite's relationship nicely.  
  
***  
  
"We must remember the past, define the future, and challenge the present—wherever and however we can. It will take the rest of our lives even to begin. But then, what else have we to do?"  
  
Jane O'Reilly, The Girl I Left Behind, Introduction (1980)  
  
Although present on the occasion, I have no clear recollection of the events leading up to it.   
  
Winston Churchill (1874–1965)  
  
  
***  
  
The crisis had passed. They all had hugged and cried and hugged again. The high emotions had finally settled and they all sat together. A natural silence had fallen as each began to think back on what had happened. It was as if the memories had faded to a light sepia in their minds.   
  
The sharpness of *knowing* had left Malone. He knew that he had seen and done marvelous things. Now, all he recalled was the sense of wonder and the satisfaction of having the strength of his convictions. Somehow intrigued by its worn cover, he gently stroked the textured surface of a book from the Layton's library as it sat on the small end table by his chair. Almost immediately, an image of a pleasant looking man sitting in a chair next to a lovely blond woman, reading the very book he was touching. It evoked a warm feeling in him, then as he pulled his hand from the book, the image faded and in it's place Veronica came into focus.   
  
"You did it," Malone said smiling up at her.  
  
"We did it," Veronica put out her hand and Ned took it and stood up. "We need to talk," she added softly, her face a study of seriousness.  
  
"I believe the balcony is very useful for that," Ned motioned toward it with his head.  
  
"You're right," Veronica smiled suddenly. He had returned, for her. She would have the chance to tell him. And, maybe he could help her understand the images and feelings that danced about in her head. They walked together, hand in hand, toward the balcony.  
  
***  
  
"It was most intriguing," Challenger was remarking to Finn as they made their way down to his lab. "I was absolutely certain I had completely understood the entire ramifications of the affects of confluence of the shifting planes of reality and time with regard to the multitudes of gravitational shifts, then...I just forgot. I don't suppose you recall any of what I said," he eyed her hopefully.  
  
Finn just looked at him for a second, decided that he had been serious with his request, took him by the arm, and remarked in a friendly tone, "Don't you have those algae experiments that you need to look at? You have to record the results of the fourth batch."  
  
"Good heavens," exclaimed Challenger. "Who knows how long we've been gone. The control will have to be reset and the batch completely redone, especially..." his voice reduced to a mumble as he searched through the supply closet for his fine mesh net and some more specimen jars.  
  
Finn leaned back against the lab table and chuckled ruefully. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but she knew she had just signed herself up for another algae *hunt* voluntarily. A strange day.  
  
***  
  
Two old souls sat next to each other. She had her head on his shoulder; he had his hand entwined with hers. Marguerite could feel the knowledge of who she had been and what had happened slowly draining away. She looked at Roxton and he seemed puzzled.  
  
"What's the matter, John?" she asked softly.  
  
"I'm forgetting what happened," he replied sadly. "I want to remember what happened with Will and Malone and you," he sighed and looked at her closely. "You're not forgetting, are you?"  
  
"Most of it, I think," Marguerite said. "It's mostly like a dream now. The power, the conflict," she touched his face. "the way I lost you before."  
  
"You have me now," Roxton assured her. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Thank you," Marguerite slid her other hand from his grasp and placed it on the other side of his face. Touching their foreheads together, she said, "We will remember, my love. If not the details, the feelings behind them."  
  
Roxton pulled her into his arms and they kissed. Deep in their minds, Morrigan and Tiarnan kissed again, echoing back through the centuries. Then, gently, the memories slid back into their resting places, and it was Marguerite and Roxton who finished the embrace.  
  
"A gràdh," Roxton said softly, wonderingly, stroking her hair.  
  
"A gràdh," replied Marguerite, nestling into the hollow of his shoulder, content.  
  
Fin 


End file.
